Devils Like To Raise
by HateWeasel
Summary: The thing about life is that every time an adventure ends, a new one begins. This is the third installment of the Devils Like to Dance series, which picks up where season two of the anime left off over a hundred years later. Things change. People change. But they also stay the same. Just older, wiser, and hopefully with bigger hearts than they had before.
1. Mundane Men Doing Mundane Things

The rain had stopped. The sun had yet to come out from behind the clouds, so there was still the threat that it would return. The air smelled wet like wet plantlife and earth as moisture hung in every breath taken as the crunch of gravel could be heard from beneath the mourners' feet. It was a bizarre funeral. No one really knew what to expect from it due to its inherent peculiarity and the rain did not help anything. Still, people showed up. Unusual people. People who had never met the deceased, or had only met them post mortem. Anthropologists and historians from local universities were gathered there, having known the deceased without ever actually knowing them. They knew them from when they studied their bones, categorising them, studying them, and trying to piece together the horrific mysteries as to how they died. They had written reports on the subject and the main players of the research were collaborating on a book. Truthfully, they were surprised that someone had gone through the trouble of holding a ceremony. It was some generous, wealthy, benefactor of some sort. They weren't given the name- or rather, names.

Many wealthy individuals contributed to the service without even being asked. It was the least that they could do for their friend. It took a few phonecalls, but the service was underway, just as promised. It was such an unusual, yet somewhat sweetly innocent request from the baronet that Integra felt compelled to honour it. If she hadn't, though, her grandmother would have made her. Other contributors were the Miles family, the Sullivan family, the Baines family, and what small amount the Westley family could offer, although initially, the sum was refused. After much insistence, the Phantomhive family relented and shared the expense. It was somewhat overkill, but each piece added up.

The backhoe rental was somewhat costly, especially since it was needed longer then initially thought because of the rain. In fact, the water made the earth somewhat unsteady, so there were additional supports that needed to be built, as it was a large operation. The land itself was expensive, as so much of it was needed and although the coffins were cheap, there were so many of them that the cost was ridiculous. Still, it was necessary, if this was going to be done right. Regular funerals were expensive, but when they involved mass graves, it was something else entirely.

Naturally, they didn't start the burial when the funeral was supposed to start, given the scale. They started several weeks before. The concrete path through what was essentially a park, now was set in and the stone monument was put on top of the dirt in the center of it. That was one of the most elaborate pieces, there.

It was a statue of three boys, smiling and playing as they looked ahead into the distance at some unseen wonder as they stood frozen on the tall, square, stone base. It was elaborately carved. Most chillingly, the base of the statue was covered in writing, depicting a list a names. The historians that were present during the ceremony had torn through every piece of documentation that they could find on the property and every name they found was written there. Unfortunately, there were more bodies than names, so the word "unknown" stood in place of one for each boy that was unaccounted for. One name stood out toward the bottom to every single person who paid money for this ceremony. Unfortunately, it was written that he died there and was a victim too, so even though they could not find his body, he was listed as well. Unbeknownst to them, however, Jim Macken was still very much alive and no longer went by that name.

Sir Jim Phantomhive stood in the crowd, dressed in his nicest black suit along with his friends and family. Occasionally, they would come up to him to offer their condolences and their support, knowing that this was all a painful memory that still affected him, but somehow, he felt serene. He was a demon at a holy ceremony. He was the one who survived this fate. While under ordinary circumstance, he would tune out the vicar as he rambled on in prayer, this time, Jim listened intently. Somehow, it made his spirit feel at peace as well.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory. for ever and ever. Amen." the vicar opened with. The mourners echoed him.

"Amen." they said. Even Jim did, trying to be on his best behaviour. It didn't matter that he didn't really believe in any of it. He wanted to, at least for this.

"Thank you all for coming." the vicar said. "It is wonderful that you did. As we are aware, these children have undergone a horrific ordeal. They have suffered for sins that were not their own and abandoned without mercy."

No, shit, Sherlock. Of course they weren't given mercy. Of course they suffered. Many of them were abandoned, but something about the way that was phrased got under Jim's skin. He knew for a fact that those boys had families. Some of them were separated and were probably still looking for their children after they were snatched off the streets. Those kids weren't abandoned. Some where, but not all of them. Abandoned by their masters, yes, but not completely abandoned by anyone who would wish them kindness. It was those without such luxury of hope that were completely lost.

"Let us give them the respect that they have been denied for so long." continued the vicar before standing to the side. "Although no one who knew them is able to speak, they do have people who are willing to give them kind words here, today."

"Willing to?" What was this? Some sort of charity? Like it was some great show of character to talk? Talking was cheap. Doing the right thing was not, but Jim bit his tongue, knowing that he was meant to be an ordinary human amoung many that day.

Whether he liked it or not, people wanted to talk, which he supposed was nice. Really, he had only expected a few prayers for the children imprisoned at the Trancy estate, but this could be nice. That hope was damaged, however, as he saw who stepped up to the front next to the preacher. It was some academic know-it-all from the university, Jim could tell by looking at him. Really, Jim didn't want them involved in any of this, but knew that he wouldn't have been able to do all of this without them.

He needed someone to excavate the remains for him if he wanted to give the other boys a more proper burial. That is why he enlisted them. That, and at the time, he was trying his best to block the Pomeroy family from acquiring the Trancy estate again, and shedding light on this was the best way to shut that down. The horrible consequence, however, was dealing with these nerds. Jim could stand listening to the preacher yammer on about Jesus, even if he didn't care for his phrasing, but this guy? This guy bothered him.

The man who stood at the front was the head of the group who did the research on this. He was dressed in a much cheaper, black suit that was too big for him, making him look even larger than he was. On his face was a dark, scraggly beard that was turning grey and a pair of spectacles, but the most alarming feature he wore was that smug expression that made it seem like he was the one responsible for all of this. It made Jim mad. Still, the menace held his tongue, as the man had yet to even speak.

"Hello, everyone." the academic said. "My name is Doctor Flanders. I'm the head of research on the Trancy boys."

"Trancy boys?" They weren't Trancy boys! They were boys who were tortured by Trancy, but don't call them "Trancy boys!" It made it sound like Araneus' owning of human beings was some sort of afterschool club. Moreover, it seemed to cement the fact that these children were literally owned by another person in a trivial fashion, which the menace did not care for. Still, the Doctor Flanders was surely doing his best.

"Over the past few months, we've been studying the incident as well as what was left behind. It is truly a horrific web that just grows more complicated and more repugnant with each new strand." continued the doctor, folding his hands in front of himself as he spoke. "The things documented by staff and the lord of the estate painted a grim picture and corroborated such heinous crimes, that it is almost too much to talk about."

"_Then shut up._" Jim whispered under his breath. He was so quiet that no one could really hear him. His friend, Kristopherson Miles, did and so did Jim's husband, but only because they were standing right next to him. The former put a hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed it while the other reached down and held Jim's hand.

"They were kept in a dark, filthy basement with little to cover themselves with and lived on scraps. There wasn't enough to go around, so many of the boys took to fighting over it to survive. Many of them went without food because they were too weak or too injured to compete..."

Doctor Flanders kept regaling his captive audience with his team's findings as if he were at a conference or a showcase of his data. With each new thing, however, Jim's grip on his husband's hand grew tighter and tighter as he clenched his other hand into a hard fist. It got to the point where he was hurting his beau's hand in his grip and had to let go. His brow was furrowing deeper and deeper, but unbeknownst to him, he was not the only one. More and more of the mourners grew more irate, from the patrons of the HELLSING organisation, who arranged this, to the non-government-related friends of Phantomhive. Even Travis Sullivan, a friend of Jim's who was known for his gentle nature and for being difficult to provoke was visibly angry.

"I'm very proud to have been apart of bringing these horrific crimes against humanity to light." the Professor carried on. These weren't crimes against "humanity." These were crimes against impoverished boys! "I would like to thank my team for the success of our findings. Without them, none of this would have possible. We would like to thank all of you for coming and hope that you will continue to support us in the future."

_"__Fuck it._" Fists clenched and teeth grit, Jim began to force his way through the crowd with a scowl on his face. How dare he? How dare he?! Jim couldn't believe the nerve of this man! He acted as though this was all about him and his shitty research! He barely mentioned the actual victims, except when sensationalising his findings or going into gross details that were entirely inappropriate for the setting. There was no mention of how they were human. There was no mention of paying them the respect that they were not given in life. It was selfish and obscene. Jim was determined to do something about it. He had to. It was the right thing to do. If that meant that he had to deck a man at a funeral, so be it.

Everyone who was there with him instead of the Professor knew what he was doing as soon as he stepped forward and although some of them thought that there might be a better way to resolve this, none of them were going to come between them once Jim was on a warpath. There was only one person ballsy enough to try. Doctor Flanders had no idea just how much he should be thanking the Watchdog for stepping in before Jim made it to the front. Placing a gentle hand on the professor's shoulder, he interrupted him before he got himself killed.

"Excuse me, sir, but I do believe that is enough." Ciel informed with a smile. It was not a friendly smile, either. It pretended to be, but something about the aura that was radiating from him made the academic feel uneasy. Then again, when a fearsome looking man with dark hair, an expensive suit, and an eyepatch tells you to stop doing something, it is common knowledge that one should listen. "I'm not sure if you're intending to, but you sound as though you are making this event about you and your team instead of the boys that we're here to pay respect to."

"I beg your pardon?" Doctor Flanders somehow managed to let out. "I am respecting them by educating the public about their situation."

"Your audience is already more than aware of the situation. This is not the time or place."

"I'm sorry, but… Who exactly are you? We're sort of in the middle of the service." The professor's tone was incredulous as he gestured toward the crowd. A good portion of the audience was aware right then and there how this was going to turn out.

"Why, I'm one of the benefactors who supplied funds for this event." Ciel innocently replied before gesturing to the crowd, himself. "And so are my friends, whom are similarly agitated by your lack of tact. No one here paid so that you could congratulate yourself or your team for a supposed job well done. You have failed to mention the victims in any capacity beyond how 'horrible' their fate was and when describing all of the things that happened to them. I, along with my associates, find it incredibly distasteful, insensitive, and self-centered. You are done speaking. Goodbye."

With that, the Watchdog simply waved the other man off, assuming authority over him in a deliberately patronising fashion. When Doctor Flanders tried to reply, Ciel simply held up his index finger, interrupting him, before waving him off again. Face flushed, the academic did what he was told, and begrudgingly retreated into his previous place in the audience, although he was clearly displeased about it. He furrowed his brow and folded his arms with a "harrumph" as he looked toward the front at the aristocrat.

"Forgive me, I mean no offense." Ciel lied. He embarrassed Doctor Flanders on purpose as to not only satisfy his husband so that Jim wouldn't still feel the need to punch the professor, but also to satisfy his own desire to punish the academic for being annoying. From there, however, he spoke genuinely.

"I would like to thank everyone who provided donations for the service as a courtesy, however. You've done a very good thing, here." It was somewhat hypocritical of him to say, but it was all that Ciel said on the subject. "But this isn't about patting ourselves on the back. This isn't about doing something good so that we can bask in the knowledge that we are such good people. This is bigger than that. We aren't here to captitalise on their misfortune, nor are we here to marvel at the unjust cruelty that they have endured for our own entertainment. We cannot erase the wrongs that have been done and we will not pity them, but instead offer them the respect and dignity that they are entitled to as human beings. These boys have been denied it for far too long… Ladies and gentlemen, you are not asked for your tears, but instead to simply be present when those who may have loved and cared for these children could not and acknowledge them- Acknowledge them as human beings. Grant them the rite that has been denied to them unfairly and inhumanely. Be mindful to others who you may encounter and make sure that the people you care about in your life now are aware that you love them. Thank you for your time."

He received some applause as he, too, rejoined the audience, grabbing hold of his husband's hand as he passed and gently guiding him back to their original spot. With his free hand, Jim reached up and wiped his eyes. The blonde wasn't aware of when his eyes grew so wet or his face grew so red. All he knew was that he was worked up and that Ciel made him feel at peace again.

"Thank you..." the blonde whispered as they stood side-by-side again.

"Any time." the bluenette whispered back, and unremarkable, the service continued. The vicar cleared his throat, obviously disturbed by the awkward tension that had been created, but too polite to say anything before offering another prayer. At the end of it all, the menace's shoulders relaxed and he let out a sigh as the crowd began to disperse.

"Are you alright?" the Watchdog asked him, prompting him to nod.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Jim answered, even offering up a small smile. "Better, actually. This has been bothering me for a while, so it's nice to put this piece of things away." His smile then widened as he playfully flexed his arms. "I feel practically reinvigorated! I could go to the zoo and wrestle a bear right now!"

"What's this about a bear?" questioned Kristopherson as he approached the duo with his own beau, Logan, in tow.

"You're not a bear, so why do you need to know?" the blonde playfully replied, prompting his most favourite lycanthrope to roll his eyes. Then, after a beat, Kristopherson seemed to reconsider.

"True." he said. "I'm a wolf."

"Are you still coming to eat with us at our place?" Jim inquired before looking to Logan. "I know you can't eat most of what we have, so is it okay with you? I don't want you to feel left out."

"Is there wine and would it be distasteful for me to get drunk?" the incubus inquired, arching his brow. He didn't look like it there, having disguised himself as an ordinary human, but Logan was still very much and incubus and could not eat regular food. He could, however, drink and was known for being rather fond of wine, even making his own, sometimes.

"I don't mind. Do you care, dear?" the blonde questioned, looking to his own partner.

"Not at all." spoke the Watchdog, prompting the werewolf and incubus to look to one another to silently see where the other stood.

"We'll be there." Logan agreed.

"We'll meet you at your house in a few." Kristopherson added before the two couples parted ways. Others took the place of Mister Miles and Mister Kendrick, however, as other friends and associates gave their regards to the Phantomhives.

"I did want to ask- and I'm sorry if I come across as pushy- but is there going to be a kosher option?" Travis did ask before he and his girlfriend, Patricia, headed over to the Phantomhive estate with the others.

"Uh… No pork, no seafood without fins or scales, and no bugs, right?" clarified the menace before answering.

"Yes."

"Yep." Jim answered. "And no dairy for Dan." He paused before looking around a bit. "Hey, where's Patricia? I saw her with you earlier?"

"She's lighting a candle by the statue." Mister Sullivan said, reaching up to scratch his beard. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all! I'm glad, actually. It's really nice of her."

"It's a catholic thing. She doesn't do it a lot, but her mum does. She seems to light a candle for everything."

"Didn't know that. Although… Nevermind. I didn't know."

"What is it?" inquired Travis, noticing the demon's hesitation.

"Oh, it's nothing. A while ago, I was told I could be Irish, and it made a lot make so much sense… Joke's on the uppity protestants, though. I don't know shit about Catholicism."

"What about uppity protestants and Catholicism?" As Patricia approached, she looped her arm through the loop created by Travis' when he stuck his hands in his pocket. "Both aren't all that fun, if I'm honest."

"I was just saying that it's possible that my family was catholic, given circumstances, but I don't know anything about Catholicism, is all." Jim explained, causing Patricia to grin.

"In that case, I was totally lying and Catholicism is great! If you ever want me to teach you a thing or two, just ask!"

"Don't do it." her boyfriend chimed in, only to grin as his girlfriend playfully shushed him. "She'll make you drink Jesus juice."

"It's the blood of Christ!" Patricia corrected, but Travis only echoed himself:

"_Jesus juice_."

"I think I'm gonna have to pass on Jesus juice…" the menace answered. "That might not be so good for me… Y'know, given my inherent demoness."

As always, the Phantomhive mansion was an imposing sight with it's impressive architecture and security systems. Somehow, however, it still looked more inviting than it has in the past and was now a rather pleasant family home. As the clouds began to part, the sun shined down on the springtime grass and flowers surrounding the associated buildings, with the most impressive being the garden out back. Finnian had officially taken to his post as the gardener of the premises and done his very best to restore it back to health after the unfortunate events from the past winter. He had help from Jim, which was nice, but only just enough to help the plants grow. The rest was all Finnian and he insisted that he kept it that way. The rain had watered the plants, leaving beads of liquid behind on the petals that helped the light shine in a bit more. Needless to say, it was a welcoming sight for the cars that pulled into the driveway.

Some of them were luxury vehicles, like the Rolls Royce Phantom that belonged to the family, but others weren't. There was Kristopherson's Mini Cooper and Audrey's purple Mustang. There was something about the roar of the engine that thrilled Audrey as it vibrated through his body. Jokingly, he offered to race Kristopherson on the way back once they both left their vehicles.

When everyone arrived, they had lunch that adhered to their dietary restrictions- except for Logan, who was merely enjoying being able to drink a lot of expensive wine. Fortunately for the Phantomhive family butler, the duo had thought ahead about the semantics of preparing food for all of these people and hired out, but less fortunately, blood was not a menu provided by the catering company, so they had to seek out alternate accommodations for their vampiric guests.

That was all anyone really had planned for the rest of the funeral services, so many people simply went home afterwards or to tend to any errands that they needed to get to that afternoon. Kristopherson and Logan were perhaps the first to leave, as Logan was tipsy and thought that it would be best for him to take it easy instead of continuing to hang around and possibly make himself look foolish. Their friend, Audrey Baines, left as well because he had grown tired of listening to people. It wasn't that he disliked them or was annoyed by them, but it had grown physically and mentally tiresome to pay attention to their voices with one ear. Daniel Westley went back, as he had a client scheduled that afternoon and wanted to honour the appointment. His friends joked that his black suit made him look more professional than he ever has while working, as there was no tacky, novelty necktie in sight. The Hellsings and their party returned to their duties as well. So did the Midfords, as the Marquis was responsible for a fencing class that afternoon and his daughter, Geraldine, simply didn't want to hang around any longer. That left Travis and Patricia behind.

Well, more accurately, Patricia was left in the green room with Jim and Travis went off to speak with Ciel alone. Their conversation wasn't about much in particular. She explained the significance of the candle to the demon and how it's one of the few things that she does actually do despite considering herself to be a "non-practising" catholic. Saint Christopher came up, as Jim saw him depicted all over Gehenna, but soon things somehow shifted into the two of them swapping stories about the various amateurs that have tried to show them that they were tough, only to look foolish in their lack of technique. Patricia once saw a man make a fist with his middle finger stuck out, although bent at the first joint from the base. He thought it would make things hurt worse, as the hard joint made contact with his opponent. No. Instead, it just broke his finger. Listening to this story, Jim simply nodded sagely, as he had seen it happen before, himself.

Meanwhile, however, more serious conversations were being had. In front of Jim and Patricia, Travis had told Ciel that he needed to discuss possible ideas for a new novel, but when they both arrived at the Watchdog's office, it became obvious that no such thing existed. It was unusual to see the famously unimpressed and difficult to bother Travis in such a state. He let out a sigh before reaching up to rub his face, looking down at the floor as he gathered his words.

"I'm sorry." he finally came out with. "I lied. There's no book. I… I realise that today may not be the best to ask you this, but… I really need your advice."

Travis never asked Ciel for advice. He never asked anyone for advice as far as the Watchdog could tell. That combined with the comparatively erratic mannerisms the man was exhibiting made Ciel somewhat wary.

"Alright?" the bluenette questioned slowly with a perplexed look on his face. For a moment, his friend hesitated, his eyes moving toward the sofas in the room. Briskly, Travis closed the gap between them and himself in a few graceful bounds before sitting down. Awkwardly, he gestured for Ciel to do the same and sit on the sofa across from him on the other side of the coffeetable. Things were only getting stranger, but Ciel reluctantly did what was asked of him.

"Are you in some kind of trouble, Travis?" he inquired further while shaking his head. "Gangsters? Supernatural nonsense?"

"No, no… No trouble. Just…_ troubled_." Mister Sullivan replied. "I tried talking about it with my parents, but they weren't very helpful. Their ideas felt… I don't know… Generic? Impersonal? Things are fine with them, but I'm still… frightened."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you what I think until I hear what it is you're talking about."

"Right, right, right… Okay..." Sitting up straighter, Travis let out a breath before clearing his throat. "I want to propose to Patricia." he announced before letting out another breath and slouching his shoulders again.

Blinking, his friend raised his eyebrows at him, surprised that Travis picked him instead of his husband to talk about this. "That's great!" Ciel said, doing his best to sound positive. He really was happy for his friend, but wasn't the type to express it in a traditionally jovial fashion. He gave his best attempt to sound like the supportive friend he was, but somehow, it sounded incredibly artificial to his own ears, so he debated on whether or not he should stop. "How are you going to do it?"

"Well, you see, that's sort of the problem..." Mister Sullivan replied, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees as he folded his hands. "I don't know. I've tried to think of every which way, but none of it feels right… I've even looked through some of Pat's romance novels for ideas, since she likes that sort of thing, but everything I found seemed so… boring. It's either predictable, or happens kind of inappropriately after some big fight or event or something… I really wish I were a romance writer, right now… I was wondering if you have any ideas. Maybe some that you didn't end up using for Alois?"

"You're asking the wrong person for that, I'm afraid..." the bluenette answered, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over his opposite knee. "I proposed to Jim after washing ashore in a rickety lifeboat at the end of a mission because Jim was mad that I'd been sneaking around on him and demanded I explain why."

"Oof..."

"It was incredibly awkward… I even accidentally phrased things to sound like I was breaking up with him… Somehow, he still said 'yes' to this… I really wish I could've given him something more romantic, but every time I brought it up, he vehemently shuts me down and says that it was 'perfect.' It's appropriate for us, I suppose. Every couple is different. Some are alright with proposing over a fancy dinner, and others share a memorable moment after a botched mission."

"Yikes… That's pretty bad, not gonna lie..." Travis noted, but the other man didn't bother refuting it. "Did you have any plans before that?"

"Many. None of them seemed right, so I wound up just carrying the ring around with me, looking for the right moment." Ciel answered. "Now I wish I proposed at the Eye… That was the first place that we went to as sort of… Well, we weren't together and weren't even really aware of our feelings at the time, but we both sort of agree that it was our first date. You can't be too sentimental with this, I don't think."

"True. That _is_ an idea, though… Money isn't an issue. I'm fine with paying anything, I just want it to be special…"

"Could you somehow do something with boxing?"

"Thought about it, but she'd want something more romantic..."

"Right." Abruptly, the demon stood up, startling Travis for a moment before smoothly making his way over to the desk. He sat down and logged on to his computer. "Let's see what we can come up with."

"I've already tried Google. I couldn't find any ideas that looked decent."

"Did you type in 'proposal ideas?'"

"Yes."

"There's your problem." the bluenette stated. "Let me give you a masterclass in constructing a romantic evening. You have to consider the atmosphere and main activity, for starters, but you also need to come up with things to do around that."

"What do you mean?" inquired Mister Sullivan, standing up himself, to walk over to his friend.

"My dear Travis, if you truly intend to woo this woman, you cannot simply get in the car, go to an event, come home, and act as though your mission is complete. The date does not begin when you arrive, but rather, when you wake up. Everything you do from the moment you wake up on the day you've chosen must be dedicated to making this special. Look here, I will teach you how."

Although Travis was baffled, his friend seemed serious as always, which made him seem trustworthy. It was also well-known that the Phantomhive were by no means lacking in the romance department. They had a reputation for being happily married to the point where their lovey-dovey behaviour bordered on disgusting. Mister Sullivan had faith that Ciel could help him come up with something.

His girlfriend, however, was none the wiser. She was, however, growing a bit impatient as over an hour passed. It was fine, however. Her boyfriend was very serious about his work and she knew that Ciel was indeed a goldmine of information. Thus, she continued her conversation with Jim, who was also starting to wonder where the other two had gone off to. When yet another half-hour rolled by, they two of them finally voiced their concerns.

"Are they writing the whole book in there?" Patricia laughed.

"Who knows. Maybe they're in a groove or something." suggested the menace.

"Well, I hope they get out of it, soon… I'm really tired of wearing this dress."

"It looks nice on you."

"Thanks! I like it. Like, I like wearing dresses in general, but I sitting around in them gets old, y'know? I've taken off my shoes, so it's better, but I still have to worry about not flashing people."

"Yeah, I'd prefer it if you didn't." Jim stated. "I can't remember the last time I wore a dress… I think my school did a fashion show for a funraiser or something..."

"You? In a dress?" Patricia questioned with a grin. "Sorry, but I can't picture it!"

"Oh, Patty… Ciel and I met while I was wearing a dress! I was very pretty as a teenager. He was very embarrassed because I 'tricked' him into finding a boy attractive."

"Oh, no! How could that ever happen?" sarcastically inquired the woman.

"Oh, shock! Oh, horror! Oh, shame! How ever could Lord Ciel Phantomhive, in all of his manly straightness ever find me, another man, attractive?!" The menace gestured wildly as he presented himself with overt melodrama. He stopped, however, and simply laughed. "And that's how we became rivals. Obviously, we're married now, so that's how that went."

"You turned him, huh?"

"Please, if you saw him when he was younger, you could tell he's a baby disaster bi waiting to happen."

Their talk ventured in that vein for a while, talking about the pains of wearing women's clothes, while conversely talking about how Jim claimed to have always wanted to try wearing a kilt. "They're skirts, but macho." he said. More time passed, but with the conversation rejuvenated, it passed a bit quicker. Finally, at long last, Travis and Ciel returned. By this time, though, Patricia's heels were off and she sat with her legs tucked underneath herself while leaning against the armrest of her chair. She had an almost empty glass of wine in hand and was by this point, a bit tipsy.

"I leave you alone with her for a while and you let her get drunk?" Travis nonchalantly questioned. He wasn't serious, but had that sort of dry affectation that Ciel often had when joking, so it might have been difficult for those not used to it to be able to tell.

"To be fair, she got herself drunk. She must not have been doing it right, since I've been drinking and I'm fine." the blonde demon replied with a smile.

Shortly after, Travis focused his attention on getting the woman to their car. He crouched down and allowed her to climb on his back while he grabbed under her legs and held her in place. While doing this, he somehow managed to still hold her shoes in his fingers. An impressive feat, but perhaps unnecessary. Patricia wasn't too incapacitated to walk on her own, but perhaps not in the heels she brought. Travis didn't want her to twist her ankles while making such an attempt, but since he also didn't want her to step on some gravel while walking back to their car, this was the solution he had. Wishing his friends farewell, he made the journey on his own legs, hoping that he didn't accidentally trip and fall, himself. Once the door was closed behind him, the demons were left alone, as everyone else had gone to their respective rooms. Immediately, Ciel was descended upon by a certain menace.

"Carry me, too!" Jim ordered , grabbing onto his beau's shoulders and attempting to jump onto his back. He grinned when the bluenette instinctively caught him and giggled against his husband's ear.

"You aren't drunk. Why do you need me to carry you?" Turning around, Ciel ventured further into the house, all the while giving his own partner a piggyback ride.

"It looked like fun! You never carry me!"

"That's because you're a grown man who can walk."

"You say that, but you're still doing it..." Jim pointed out, only to pout when his beau dropped him. Turning around, however, Ciel bent his knees and crouched, only to press his shoulder against Jim's abdomen and wrap his arms around the blonde's waist. With a small grunt, he picked up the menace once again, this time, carrying him unceremoniously over his shoulder. Ciel smiled widely, as the ensuing fit of giggles he elicited from his spouse tickled him.

"What the hell, Ciel?" the blonde laughed. Looking down, he could see that Ciel was ascending the stairs to the next floor. "This isn't romantic at all!"

"And piggybacks are?"

"People think it's cute when straight couples do it! Y'know, like those straight, middle-class, white people who name their kids shit like 'Braylynn?'"

"We're not a straight, middle-class white couple, though? We're a same-sex, aristocratic, white couple."

"Then what will our kids names, be? 'Reginald?' 'Algernon?' 'Octavia?'"

"Where are you even getting this?" Ciel chuckled. "That's weirdly specific..."

"We went to school at Warwick, Ciel. If you ask to borrow a pencil, ol' Lysander or some shit sitting behind you will ask why your family can't afford them!"

_"__I _sat behind you in school!"

"Stop ruining my jokes!"

Having arrived at the master suite, Ciel put his rambunctious beau down again before removing his tie and putting his suit away. The pair began slipping into something more comfortable, now that their guests were gone, which for Jim meant one of Ciel's long-sleeved shirts and pyjama pants, while for Ciel, that meant a different button up than the one he was wearing and a different pair of slightly less dressy trousers. While they did so, they continued to talk.

"Travis wanted some advice." the bluenette said, preemptively offering his spouse an explanation for his long absence. "He wants to propose to Patricia and wanted my help going over possible ideas."

"Really?!" inquired the blonde, turning his head to face the other. He slipped on his shirt and smoothed it out. "That's great! We'll have married friends to hang out with and talk about… married couple things."

"I think married couple things are a bit different for us, darling."

"Apart from the supernatural stuff, I mean. Y'know, like being a unit, filing your taxes, but checking the 'married' box, and annoying your friends by giving the impression that you have your shit more together and are leaving them behind when really, you aren't that different."

"Jim..." Ciel began, turning around to face the other while buttoning up his shirt. "Too real..."

"Well, you know me, babe. I'm edgy. Real edgy. I could cut a man by staring at him." Stepping forward, the menace put his hands on the other man's shoulders from behind and ran them down his biceps, gripping them, and pulling Ciel against his chest.

"Really?" the bluenette mused as Jim kissed his cheek. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"What?" questioned the menace, standing up straight again.

"Though I'd check in with you? Are you still feeling alright?"

"Yeah." he said, rubbing Ciel's arms again. "I'm alright. I'm relieved. I feel bad because I wasn't able to cry, but… I think I've cried a lot already. Surely it'll be fine… The doctor thought it would be."

Jim had started seeing a therapist a while ago, despite previous lack of success when it came to school counselling when he was in school. He was a lot wilder back then, though. Now, the baronet was coming to terms with the fact that it might be time to let go of some of the destructive thoughts and fears that burdened him. He would not be free of the trauma of his imprisonment or the things he saw there for a long time, if ever, but if he could do this much, his quality of life would improve. In a lot of ways, it already has.

"I'm glad." Lord Phantomhive replied. "I was worried. I saw you getting ready to punch that man..."

"I don't care about him or his shitty book. I'm not gonna read it or the reports he made. They'll only piss me off." Wrapping his arms around the other man's middle, Jim made it really hard for Ciel to tuck his shirt into his trousers. "Thanks for stopping me, though. It was a nice ceremony, except for him. Clocking some smug blowhard would've dampened things."

"It was a funeral..."

"Not a sad one, though. Some funerals can be happy."

Smiling, Ciel put a hand over the other Phantomhive's. "I understand the sentiment and the significance of letting go, but… Darling, that was really edgy..."

"Isn't it?" Jim laughed, playfully rocking them both from side to side. "Ain't I metal?"

"You are. So metal." Gently, Ciel coaxed the other to let go of him long enough for him to turn and face the menace. It didn't last, though, as Jim's arms were around him once again, but this time, Ciel was close enough to cup the blonde's cheeks and kiss him. When he pulled away again, he ran his hands down Jim's chest, prompting the other man to chuckle with his eyes still closed. He opened them again when Ciel suddenly grabbed him from around his waist and picked him up.

"Ah!" the menace yelped before giggling his head off. He repositioned his arms so that they were around Ciel's shoulders as he went back in to kiss the bluenette, allowing himself to be carried away. Ciel only brought him into the other room, though, before forcing him to separate and tossing Jim onto the bed. The blonde bounced and continued to laugh, watching as Ciel took a few steps back. "Come on, baby!"

The Earl rushed up to the bed and jumped, landing next to his husband while the two of them laughed. He made both of them bounce before his husband rolled over on his side and put his arm around him. Jim put his face in the pit of the other man's neck and blew raspberries there as Ciel instinctively held him there.

"Oof..." the bluenette grunted as he struggled to get comfortable.

"When most people brag about nearly breaking the bed, I don't think this is what they mean." Jim jested, pulling away for a moment. As his husband continued to shift, Jim propped himself up on his elbow as he laid on his side in order to give him some space. "Problem?"

"I don't think the bed's broken, but we really need a mattress..." Lord Phantomhive replied. "It feels like I'm laying across a ditch..."

"Well, let's lay the other way, then."

"That's why it's like this. We always lay in the same spot, so it's compressed."

"Well… Can we just go get one, or..?"

"Yeah. We'll just go to the store, and-" Pausing, Ciel thought a moment. "Huh..."

"What?"

"This will be the first time we buy a mattress together."

"Oh, yeah… Is that a really 'couple' thing to do? Buying houses, cars, and stuff like that together?" Jim questioned. "Is it weird that I like stuff like that?"

"No, I don't think so. It's weirdly exciting, isn't it?" Ciel replied. "Are you free tomorrow? We could go down and get one."

"It it that easy?"

"Pretty much."

"Mmm… I can go. I need some paperwork done, but I can do it later." the baronet replied. "Help me stamp things."

"_You're_ supposed to stamp them. I don't have authorisation."

"That's not what you say when you make me help you with _your _work."

"You're supposed to be the upstanding citizen between us."

"No, I'm supposed to do the most good by using a mixture of moral and underhanded tactics depending on which is best for the situation. Do you even know me?!"

"I know you. I know you're ridiculous."Ciel stated, turning over on his side to face the other. He was obviously uncomfortable, as his side dipped into the mattress at an unnatural angle, but he wanted to look at his beau. "So it's a date, then?"

"Yeah. Did you tell Travis about all of the exciting aspects of being a committed, longterm couple like this?"

"No, but he'll figure it out, eventually."

* * *

**A/N: Welcome back~! Did you miss me? It hasn't been that long, but still! I want to feel loved!**

**Anyway, we're back. ****This is a much different first chapter from the previous one, isn't it? And the first chapter before it? In those, there was something fantastical going on, but this time? It's just "yeah, these are people and here are their lives." I'm actually kind of worried about whether or not this is a good first chapter, but I feel like this is really where the characters are in their lives at the moment. Also? I just wrote a shit-ton of chapters with like, important plot elements and catastrophice destruction... blood and death... that kind of shit. I wanted to write something "boring" after that!**

**Let me know what you think!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	2. Soft and Squishy

Two demons awoke that morning, although perhaps it wasn't exactly "bright and early." They took their time getting ready, as neither of them were in a particular rush to go do this. But, they managed, and set out on the adventure that they had planned that day. Only one of them had been to a mattress store, before, so Jim wasn't really sure what to expect. He didn't think he was quite expecting the expansive building he stepped into with it's horrible fluorescent lights that seemed to make every single blemish on one's face look both more noticeable and a thousand times worse. There were demo beds everywhere and people laying in them while they decided on whether or not to buy it. Somehow, the set up reminded Jim of disaster relief whenever he saw it in movies, only if it were decorated like a fake home that nobody would ever actually live in. A confused expression crossed his features as they were approached by an employee.

"Hello! Do you need help finding anything?" the man asked. He looked older than the demons did. They would place him as being somewhere in his early thirties. Naturally, since Jim didn't know what was going on, Ciel took the lead.

"Yes, we're looking for a king size mattress." answered the Watchdog. "Preferably a memory foam one."

"Alright. If you follow me, I'm sure we can find you something." the employee said, prompting the pair to do as they were told.

Now, this may be a completely ordinary activity for an ordinary couple to undergo, but the Phantomhives were by no means an "ordinary" couple. This, however, was a rare situation where neither their supernatural nature, their affinity with government agencies, nor their social status were the reason. Instead, it was a perfectly ordinary reason why they were not ordinary. They were two men in a romantic relationship, buying a mattress. While neither Phantomhive was ashamed or embarrassed of their relationship, nor were they ever really concerned about their safety in public, they were still sort of waiting for some passing comment to highlight the difference between them and other heterosexual customers.

"Try this one." the employee instructed, gesturing to the first demo mattress. "It has springs at the bottom, but there's a layer of memory foam on the top. There's other brands and models, of course, but don't worry, we won't let you walk away with a mattress you don't like!"

There was a pause, but then Ciel gently nudged the menace, grabbing his attention. "You need to get on." Ciel informed, snapping his beau from his confused state and encouraging him to take action. Jim hesitated for a moment, given the strangeness of laying on a bed in a public place where one ordinarily wouldn't, but he did, taking his usual side on the left while Ciel soon followed him on the right. The pair laid there, uncomfortably, but they weren't exactly sure why it was uncomfortable. Was it the mattress or was it the situation?

"We're actually having a sale on this brand." informed the employee. "If you get it today, we'll take off five percent of the price!"

"It's a bit too hard..." Ciel said rather seriously. His face was stern as ever, giving the employee the impression that he was annoyed. In reality, he was simply focused.

"It's okay." Jim replied, rolling over onto his side. "Could be softer, but I could live with it."

"The point is not having to 'live with it.' Otherwise, we'd just stick with the old one."

"Then probably not."

The trio moved on from one mattress to the next while the demons debated. The entire time, however, they were just waiting for some kind of passing comment. Anything. Even an ignorant, but well intentioned assumption of the two of them being roommates trying to save some money. Maybe the nice suit Ciel was wearing negated that theory, but still, they've heard dumber. Once more, the pair of them laid down on their backs- Ciel with his hands folded across his stomach and Jim with an arm behind his head.

"This is good." Lord Phantomhive said before looking over at his spouse. "What do you think?"

"It's nice." Sir Phantomhive answered, echoing his previous responses.

"Do you actually like it, or are you saying that because you want to leave?"

"No, I like it. It's really comfortable."

"But is this the one we should get?"

"Sure."

"You aren't being very helpful, you know..."

"It kinda feels like the last mattress, if I'm honest." Jim replied with an apologetic look.

"Well, we do have one more brand that comes in a king, but if not, I'm afraid that there isn't much else we can do." informed the employee.

"Worth a shot." the blonde said while sitting up. "If not, there's another place a few minutes away."

It was the moment of truth. When they laid down on that mattress, it would decide which one they were going to sleep on until it was time for them to return. The duo assumed their positions, dutifully laying back on the mattress. They waited for the memory foam to settle against their spines as they relaxed. Once it did, however, Jim uttered a sigh through his nose. Looking over at his spouse, Ciel smiled at him.

"So I take it this is the one?" questioned the bluenette, prompting the other man to nod.

"Mm-hm… I see what you were talking about, now..." the blonde agreed, finding himself unable to force himself to get up right away.

He continued to lay there for a while longer as his beau sat up to talk to the employee. Ciel wasn't interested in any kind of payment plan or even what the price was. That was the mattress they were getting and that was that. The Earl even paid an additional sum to have it shipped to their home the same day. There was no way that they were going to be able to transport that thing in the Mercedes, after all. After signing a few forms and putting his card into the chip reader, Ciel walked his husband back to their vehicle and the two of them sat down. Silently, they buckled their seatbelts and got settled, sighing through their noses as they willed themselves to figure out what their next course of action would be.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be." Jim stated with a nod, mostly to himself.

"It is pretty simple. Although, I was a little surprised at how disinterested you were in the whole affair… Something on your mind?"

"Mostly just waiting for the dumb 'you're a couple?' comments, but it never happened, so it's okay. Everything turned out better than I thought it would."

"That's true… I was sort of waiting for it, as well." answered Lord Phantomhive, offering his husband an understanding smile. "I've heard a few stories online about that."

"It also felt kind of hard to talk about the mattresses? Or am I just crazy?"

"It's difficult to talk about it in terms of 'togetherness' in front of strange people, right?"

"Exactly!" declared the baronet while pointing enthusiastically. "I couldn't check to see if it was comfortable while cuddling, but hopefully, it will do."

"Right, since you practically sleep on top of me, yes?"

"You're a good pillow." Jim insisted. "You're so supportive of me in every way! Even my neck and head!"

"I'm simply fulfilling my husbandly duty, darling."

"Psh, right. Are you going to fulfill your other duties tonight and help me break in that bed?"

"Most likely, if you are alluding to what I think you are. If you aren't, though, I'll do my best."

"So serious..." the menace said with playful, false-gruffness. "At least I know you'll give it your best effort!"

"Always." Intertwining their fingers, Ciel kissed the back of Jim's hand. He then smiled while pressing it against his chin. "So? Where to, next?"

"I'm not really sure… I have paperwork, but I didn't expect us to be done this early…" the menace pondered aloud. He stopped to think for a moment, trying to recall if there was anywhere or anything he wanted or wanted to do. "We could go shopping." he suggested. "Hit the candy store, bookshop… We could get a new toothbrush holder!"

"What's wrong with the one we've got?"

"It isn't cute. Mostly, though, I just wanna browse around a shit shop and see what I can find."

"What a happy homemaker you are!" teased the Watchdog. "I'm so happy that I have such a good-mannered wife."

"Your good-mannered_ husband_ is gonna divorce your ass if you keep talkin' like that."

"Doubtful. You're crazy about me."

"True, but I also have high standards, now, since you've gone and made the mistake of encouraging me to love myself." jested the menace. "Though you're right, I probably am too into you to do that."

"That doesn't mean that you're afraid to put me back in my place by any stretch of the imagination, however."

Pausing, the menace thought for a moment. "Do you like it when I boss you around or something?"

"Hmm… Not particularly. At times, perhaps, but mostly, I just find your strong-willed personality appealing. I make jokes about homemaking, but I would go mad if I married someone who could only do that…"

"Are you saying you don't like Victorian women?"

"Or women from the 1900s, 1910s, 1920s… you get the picture. It isn't that I dislike women, themselves, as there are plenty of interesting ones. It's just that many of them have been taught that they must be boring and are forced to live boring lives. They're the ones who really suffer in it, though."

"How exactly did we get from talking about mattresses to sexism, again?"

"Jim, we've been together for… what? Roughly seven years, now? Married for two and working on three? This is how it always is. Talking comes naturally between us."

"Yeah, but you're way better at wording stuff than I am." confided the blonde. Turning their joined hands around, Jim took his turn to kiss his husband's knuckles. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Ciel grinned. "I do have a suggestion, however."

"What's that?"

"We should get lunch."

"Agreed. I've been kind of craving a burrito, lately."

"I'm not really feeling like Mexican food, though..."

"Are we going to have this argument again?" Jim questioned. "You know, the thing where we both shoot down all of each other's options and take forever to decide where we're going to go?"

"From what I hear, that's just 90% of being married..."

Sir Phantomhive started up the engine and put the car into gear before taking off. Both of them were determined to have a nice outing together. While they didn't get all dressed up for a date, it still counted to them. They had their lunch before going off to the nearest FUNTOM store, where they perused the candy section, though Jim couldn't resist looking at a few toys. While he was a grown adult, if he wanted to spend his money on a tiny, cheap, plastic, toy dog to put on his desk, he could. That was just one of the wonders of being an adult and making adult decisions. Perhaps it was sort of a good thing that they went here after eating, though. They didn't pick out as much candy, although both of them did get extra to stash for later. Ciel always had some in a small dish on his own desk, while Jim kept his God-knows-where, given his spouse's gluttonous nature. Of course, they did get a few things for the lads back home, as well.

They hopped from one store to another and briefly split up to cover more ground, as while Ciel was in the market for a new pair of houseslippers, his beau didn't want to keep him waiting while Jim weighed the merits of buying a new toothbrush holder for their bathroom. He found a rather cute one. It looked like a moose's head and the toothbrushes would be held in the antlers. It didn't match any of the décor in their bathroom and their current toothbrush holder was not damaged or otherwise unusable, but he _wanted_ it, even though it would offend their butler's design tastes. The baronet was not a stuffy person, which sometimes clashed with the sophisticated, aristocratic vibe of his surroundings, but he knew that he had a place, too, and if he had a place, then this moose toothbrush-holder could, too. In the end, however, he neglected to purchase it, however. One reason was that it might class with his husband's sensibilities a bit too much, but another was simply that he found something even better. He found cases that clipped around the toothbrush head to keep the bristles protected, but even better and the reason why he wanted them: they were shaped like animals. It took him a while of searching through the display, but he finally found both a lion and a dog, so he was happy. Just as he pulled the last one out and measured it's cuteness to be adequate, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face his spouse.

"I found slippers." the watchdog announced, holding up his prize. It was just a pair of plain, black, men's slippers. There was nothing particularly remarkable about them, but he seemed pleased.

"They look exactly like the ones you have?" questioned Jim, not understanding the appeal.

"They're different, though. These have more cushion in the sole, while the ones I have are flat. They should be really comfortable."

"Oh, really? Where'd you get them? I might want a pair, too… But also, look at these!" With a big smile, Jim held up the toothbrush protectors. "Aren't they cute? They keep your toothbrush clean when you aren't using it!"

"Oh! That is nice..." the bluenette noted, reaching out to examine the packaging for more details. Despite the cutesy appearance, they were subtle in the grand scheme of the bathroom's décor, but also they appealed heavily to the bluenette's more practical side. "This is an excellent find."

"Right?" enthusiastically questioned the menace, his grin reminding the Earl of something.

"Right! On my way to the slippers, I passed by something that I really think you should see..."

"Don't tease me, babe. You'll absolutely kill me with the suspense!"

Jim followed his spouse through the store as they went on their way to both look for a pair of slippers for him and for Ciel to show him whatever it is he needed to see. When the Earl set his sights on what it was he was looking for, the led the menace right up to it and gestured at it. "There!"

It was a mug. A mug for drinking. It held tea, or coffee, or any other beverage that any other mug or cup in existence could hold, but that wasn't the excited part about it. What reminded Ciel of his spouse was the fact that for a handle, the mug had a faux pair of brass knuckles on its side. Now, some people were strange and might misconstrue this as some kind of insult—bless their hearts- but Jim grinned, baring his teeth in a delighted smile as he picked it up and examined it.

"I love this!" Jim declared, his eyes sparkling at the somewhat violent object.

"Right? Right?" questioned Ciel, delighted that his husband was delighted. "I think I've seen some online that had gunhandles instead, but this seems more comfortable, doesn't it?"

"It does! I… I think I need this, Ciel? I _need _it. I require it in my life."

"Then we should get it. I'll show you the gun version later."

They didn't get much from that store, but what they got, they were happy with. They were in sync with one another, but while some of the ways that manifested seemed "odd" from a distance, in reality, they were rather ordinary. It was simply a matter of knowing one's partner and being even the slightest bit perceptive of their tastes.

The day must come to an end, however, and eventually they were forced to go home. Jim had work to get done and turned in before the week was over, and Ciel was gracious enough to help him. He needed to place his seal on a few documents, read and approve or reject others, and figure out which public projects needed to be funded. It would have been much easier to do if the documents had been sifted through in order to have the blatantly idiotic proposals from the general public removed, but the person who typically did that job was on leave after surgery. That is how Ciel wound up reading a proposal for a ban on taxes. He only got a few sentences in before he was reaching for the big, red, "rejected" stamp.

Jim wasn't particularly happy about this turn of events, but made great progress, considering the lack of screening. He showed his appreciation to his husband by bringing him a cup of tea after leaving him for a few minutes in order to stretch his legs. "Thanks, Jimmy." the bluenette politely said, looking away from his papers to look up at the other and watching as Jim did his best to conceal a grin.

"Not problem. Thanks for helping me out." The blonde wasn't going to comment on being called "Jimmy" so that the bluenette wouldn't feel embarrassed by saying it and stop. "Not all that exciting, but it has to be done so we can do the fun stuff."

"I don't mind. It's actually pretty interesting. How's the new mug?"

Jim let go of the mug with his pinky in ring finger as if to wave at the other man before gripping the handle more firmly again. "Feels good, man. The real deal feels better, but this is nice." Pausing, the menace added: "That's not a thing a normal person thinks, is it?"

"No, but if more people held a pair of brass knuckles in their fist at least once, they'd get it."

"Are you advocating for brass knuckles to be legal?"

"No, but the idea still stands." Ciel picked up the handle of his own cup and took a sip.

"We should be done, soon. I hate the last stretch, though..."

"Why's that?"

"Because, it's always like: 'I'm almost done. I can get away with taking a break.' and then I don't want to come back to work because there isn't a lot to do, and then I think: 'I can just do the rest tomorrow.' Do I ever feel like it the next day? No. Is it better to get it done instead of making the work last several days? Probably. Yet I still don't want to do it."

"What would help you sit down and get it done?" questioned the bluenette.

"It helps if there's a reward at the end, but I actually feel better about it with you helping. Mostly because the reward is: 'Ciel doesn't have to keep doing my work for me' and that's enough."

Ciel opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted before he could make a sound by the ring of the office phone. He looked to his husband in acknowledgment before picking it up. Instinctively, he used his standard, but somewhat off-putting greeting.

"Phantomhive." he said, indicating who it was. His face was serious once more with a rather stern expression, but it soon shifted as he recognised the other voice on the other end. "_Lord_ Phantomhive, not _Sir_ Phantomhive. Don't act like you don't know who this is, Kris."

Upon hearing his best friend's name, Jim's interest was piqued and he leaned down, tilting his head in order to try and hear what was being said. The other demon merely let him, knowing that he was just going to have relay any information that was discussed later if he didn't, but more importantly, that this was simply the sort of behaviour his husband exhibited. It was not surprising and was as natural as breathing.

"My bad, _my lord._" Kristopherson laughed on the other end of the line. "So, how are you and the missus?"

"We're doing aright. We got a new mattress today."

"Wore your old one out, huh?"

"Ignoring that."

"Fine." Mister Miles said. "We should probably replace ours, too… I'm not really sure what to look for, though!"

"We got one with memory foam. It's nice."

"Maybe… What are you doing with your old one?"

"Take it to the dump, probably. Why?"

"You could probably donate it at the Wolf's Glen. There's no mattress stores around here and people need them. Probably what I'm going to do with mine."

"Do people really take other people's old, mangled, mattresses?" Ciel questioned, not quite believing Kristopherson, causing the other man to pause.

"Y'know, part of me is glad I live in Gehenna now, because I understand so much more about the world, now." the wolfman stated. "Anyways, yeah, you can donate them, but more importantly, that's not what I called about."

"What is it, then?"

"To the point as always… Gehenna's holding a food fair tomorrow, it looks like. All of the restaurants are going to be giving out free samples, and people are going to make stuff to sell I hear that there's even vendors coming up from Pyestock to join in. I wanted to know if you guys wanted to come."

"Oh. Sounds fun. I'm not busy, but you should probably run it by Jim first." Without skipping a beat, the bluenette blinked as he felt the phone taken from his hand.

"Hell, yeah! Let's go!" the menace declared into the receiver, causing the wolfman to laugh.

"Alright! I was thinkin' we could meet up outside the shop?"

"Sure! Sounds good. Are the others going to be there? Logan and Dan?"

"Yeah… Uh… That's kind of the thing..." Kristopherson chuckled. "Logan can't eat any of the food, so he said he's just going to do a round to check out drinks and then go home. Dan's gonna be out with his boy toy, and I don't really want to go by myself..."

"Poor you!" Jim laughed, although he was clearly sympathetic all the same. "Yeah, we'll be there."

From there, the menace sat down at his desk and continued to talk, having seemingly forgotten about his work while socialising. It was going to get done, though, as Ciel continued to work as he talked. It didn't upset the Watchdog, though, even though the menace spent a good hour talking on the phone. Ciel really was interested in the sorts of things his husband did for his job, as he didn't get to see this side of it that often, but in addition, Ciel was just glad that Jim was getting out and socialising with others. While it seemed like they were attached at the hip, they could separate and do things that didn't involve the other. Even with the food festival, if Jim wanted to go hang out with Kristopherson on his own, Ciel wouldn't mind. After all, the Watchdog had no doubt that the others in the Phantomhive household would want to go. If that happened, he could always attend with Finnian.

As Jim wrapped up his conversation, he looked over at his beau and noticed the pile of paper that had collected on the other Phantomhive's desk. A pang of guilt shot through him in that moment and he immidiately felt compelled to hang up.

"Well, I need to get this paperwork done tonight, so I'll talk to you tomorrow morning to make the plan. Bye-bye." he said before returning the phone to the portion of desk between them. He stood up and walked over to his spouse, beginning to rub his shoulders.

"I'm sorry~, poochie~!" Jim declared, kissing the top of his husband's head. "I didn't mean to leave you with everything!"

"It's alright. I don't mind. Somebody has to make plans if we want to go somewhere." the bluenette replied. "I'm almost done, but there's a few that I didn't know how to handle, so I set them aside for you to look at."

"Thanks! I seriously owe you for this, sweetheart! You're too good to me! Honestly!" Picking up the papers with one hand, he reached down and playfully rubbed the other man's stomach with the other. "I should make you some cake!"

"What are you doing?" asked the other Phantomhive, dropping his pen and raising his arms so he could look down and see what his beau was up to. "I'm not a dog!"

"You're such a good boy!" snickered the menace while babytalking to poor, flustered, Ciel. "Who's a good boy?"

"Stop it!"

"Why? Does it embewess the widdle puppy to have his bewwy wubbed?" He laughed openly as Ciel tried to swat his hand away, only to set the papers back down again so he had both hands free. While Ciel guarded against one, Jim tried to sneak in with the other.

"You are absolutely mental!" the Earl told him while standing up, but Jim just pushed past his chair and pursued him.

"You love belly rubs and you know it!"

"No, I do not! Since when do you do that?! You're lying!"

"But I need to make sure that you're being well fed!"

"I'm FINE!"

* * *

**A/N: Remember that time these two saved the UK from ancient supernatural beings that wanted to destroy their way of life as they knew it? These are the same people.**

**I love writing Ciel and Jim being playful and stupid. I feel like I need to make up for lost time with all of the serious shit I had to write. I'm really glad to see that everybody seems on board with the break from serious stuff! Sometimes, I just want to write these idiots doing boring shit like buying a mattress. More people should do that, actually. I kinda wanna know what other versions of the characters would do in that situation? **

**I don't really have much else to say, but I did get some questions!**

_**"**_**_how many chapters will there be? do you plan to ignore the existence of a second Ciel? Greetings from Russia ~" by veta_  
**

**Hello~!**

**I have no idea how many chapters this is going to be. "A lot" is a good estimate, given my track record. We still didn't get up to chapter 666, so maybe that's what we should aim for? **

**As for Ciel 2, he exists, but not in the way he does in the manga AND he isn't the same character. He's a different person completely who has no real relation to the manga at all? Mostly just the idea of "two Ciels" is a thing.**

**I hope that was a good enough answer!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	3. Everybody Wants To Love You

As the sun began to set, the Phantomhives got ready to leave the house. Everyone was dressed casually, even Ciel, who was convinced by his beau that he didn't need to wear a suit absolutely everywhere. Instead, he switched to a white polo shirt, some jeans, and a leather jacket, knowing that it was an outfit that his husband liked. With that, he was clear to go and so was everyone else. They set off for Gehenna, leaving the house and the butler behind. Sebastian didn't mind, however. It was simply quiet time that he would have for himself!

When they arrived at the gates, they parked the car, leaving it behind as the streets were too full with people to safely drive through. They could see the lights of streetlamps and temporary lanterns. Some people put up Christmas lights on their displays in order to stand out, so it was a wonderful spectacle. There were tables outside of restaurants with their samples. The doors to their establishments were open in case anyone wanted to come in and buy the full product. Some booths were nicer than others, but that was not at all indicative of how delicious the food there would be. Some stations prepared the samples right there in front of the customer, while others brought them out from the restaurant. There were booths that didn't serve food, but instead had drinks. Some of them even had blood packs for local vampires, as it was kind of a shame that the event was organised at night while the vampires needed to be out, as they couldn't eat or drink anything there!

There were a few other things there to see, however. There were stations where people were making paper lanterns like the temporary ones that lit the street and there was a group doing a shadow puppet show. One person set up shop with a tattoo gun that they had somehow acquired. It wasn't illegal, but Jim did make a mental note to come up with some restrictions to ensure safe practise. He hoped to whatever higher being that would listen that they were using new needles with each client.

On the way to Andrea's, the clothing shop that Kristopherson owned, their group did some splitting up. Luka was going on fourteen years of age, now, so like most teenagers, he immediately split off to go hang out with his friends, but not without some heavy insistence that he keeps his phone turned on and that he meets the rest of the family back at the car when called. His brother Revy, always the independent sort, acted similarly, although because he was an adult by this point and knew better than to not answer when the people who were his ride home told him it was time to leave, he didn't get a lecture, and instead was let loose to go find his own friends. Finnian, however, did not have any friends in Gehenna yet, but was slowly working his way into the extended circle that the Phantomhives were a part of, so no one minded when he went along with Ciel and Jim as they met up with Kristopherson. To their surprise, though, when they saw Kristopherson waiting outside of the shop, he was alone.

Now, the group knew that Kristopherson's boyfriend, Logan, was an incubus and could only partake in the beverage portion of things, but they thought that he would still be there. Kristopherson didn't look bothered, though. When he saw the trio approaching him, he smiled and offered them a wave.

"What's up, fuckers?" he greeted before pausing. "And Finny."

"Hey, arsehole." Jim answered back as the two hugged from the side. "How's it going?"

"Well, as you see, I'm missing my other half, so there's that." Kristopherson replied. "He was lifting some equipment that he really shouldn't have been lifting by himself and pulled a muscle, so he didn't feel like walking around tonight."

"Is he alright?" questioned Ciel with raised brows. He was somewhat surprsied, although somewhat embarrassingly so, as he somehow had genuinely forgotten that other supernaturals were capable of such an injury.

"Yeah, he's fine." answered the wolfman with a smile. "He went to the doctor and got it checked out right after. He said that I need to try all of the drinks on the strip in his place. In other words, I am gonna need to piss so bad later..."

"Thanks for sharing. Think we should stop by to offer our sympathies directly, or do you think he'll be asleep?" questioned the menace, completely brushing the thought of his friend's bladder aside.

"He'll probably be asleep, but you can stop by, if you want. Now..." Kristopherson clapped his hands together before rubbing them. "Where should we start?"

"Well, we haven't tried everything on the way we came from." Ciel stated. Ever the strategist, he already had a plan. "If we go that way and come back, it will place you closer to your house in the end, but also give you the chance to stop by the shop in case you need the toilet."

"I like that plan. Alois, this guy's smart. You should like, marry him or something."

"I know, right?"

"'Alois?'" Finny echoed, finally joining the conversation with a confused expression.

"Yeah, when I was in school with Kris and the others, I still went by 'Alois.'" the menace explained. "So that's why they call me that. Ciel switched over to 'Jim' because I asked him to."

"I asked him about it, and he said that 'Alois' is fine. Mostly, I just call him that because there's no point in changing if I'm not allowed to call him 'Jimmy.'" Kristopherson jested.

"You can call me 'Jimmy,' but only if you want to die."

From there, the group set off down the street, making their way through the crowd. They went up one side of the street until they reached the end and were planning on going back down the other when they turned around. Before they could finish their first pass, however, they ran into a familiar face. Standing in front of one of the booths was Daniel, clad in a denim jacket, which was new to the others, but more importantly, he was handing a small sample of ice cream to a little girl.

The girl looked roughly four or five years old, with black hair pulled back into pigtails. Ciel recognised the small doll that she had cradled in her other arm, as it was a FUNTOM toy. It was a black cat with one green eye open while the other winked. Somehow, it made him pleased that his products had made it all the way to Gehenna, despite the company already reaching international appeal.

Naturally, Jim couldn't keep his mouth shut and had to call out to him and wave. Daniel looked up and saw him, prompting him to smile and wave back. The gesture caught the attention of the little girl, who followed his gaze. When she saw who he was waving at, however, her eyes got really big and she had a moment of panic where she wanted to wave too, but couldn't because her hands were full. She quickly shoved the small spoon that her ice cream sample was on in her mouth and held it there, allowing her to greet the Watchdog and Lion as well. Daniel initially was just going to let the moment pass, but with some enthusiastic poking and prodding on the small child's part, he relented and approached the group. To the demons', Kristopherson's, and Finnian's surprise, however, they weren't alone, and a man started following Daniel quite closely. None of them, however, would dare admit that they didn't notice Daniel's boyfriend until he started moving.

"Hey, guys." Mister Westley said as he approached the others. "How's the festival?"

"Not bad. We haven't been here long, but it's been fun so far." answered the Watchdog before asking the question that both he and his spouse wanted answers to. "Who are your friends?"

"Oh! Uh… This is..." Anxiety shot through Daniel as he realised the situation that he had just put both himself and his compatriots in. He saw Kristopherson, who had already met his boyfriend, and forgot that this was the first time that the demons were meeting him, despite knowing of him. It was an important moment despite the trivial way in which he needed to introduce the men to each other and Daniel was terrified of screwing it up. "This is my boyfriend, Theodore Ravenscroft." To most people, it was unusual to introduce people with their first and last names, but in Daniel's home sphere, that was how people did it. Similarly, it was how the demons did it as well.

"Hi, you can call me 'Ted.'" spoke the man. He was aware that Daniel was friends with the Lion and Watchdog, but still felt nervous while meeting the real deal. "Or not. Whatever works."

"Nice to meet you, 'Ted!'" Jim greeted in a friendly fashion, holding out his hand to shake. When Mister Ravenscroft took it, however, he couldn't help by feel like the demons were sizing him up a bit. His suspicions were indeed correct, but how could one blame them? After all, the last person to be in a "relationship" with Daniel was not only a terrible person, but also eventually started working for multiple supernatural organisations that aimed to do harm to the country itself! They had every right to be cautious. Fortunately, neither demon detected anything of concern, so Jim let go of Theodore's hand without further incident. "I'm Jim Phantomhive. This is my husband, Ciel and our friend, Finnian."

"The pleasure is all mine." Theodore answered, somewhat impressed by how effortless he accidentally made it sound. While that conversation died down, that left space to fill, but fortunately, Daniel knew exactly what to say.

"And this, is Ruby." Daniel continued, keeping the conversation going as he gestured to the small girl who was staring up at the demons with sparkling eyes. "She's Ted's daughter."

"Ruby, say 'Hi.'" Mister Ravenscroft said, snapping the girl to her senses somewhat. She somehow managed to remember to close her mouth for a moment before she worked up the nerve to speak.

"Hi, Mister Lion!" she said. Her voice was so little, yet somehow so loud! Immediately, the blonde smiled.

"Hi, Ruby! Are you having a good time?" he asked.

"Mm-hm!" the girl answered, but she wasn't done. She really didn't have any interest in pleasantries and wanted to cut right to the chase. "Do you really know Daniel?" she asked.

"Yeah! Ciel, Kris, and I all went to the same school!" Jim stated, crouching down on one knee so that they were on the same level. "We're all friends with each other. Why? Did you think Daniel was telling porkies?"

"Yeah!" Ruby bluntly said back, causing a few of Mister Westley's friends to snicker.

"Whelp, he was telling the truth. We've known each other for a long time and he doesn't tell lies. He got into trouble, but he didn't lie, so make sure he keeps behaving for me, okay?"

"Okay!" the girl enthusiastically answered, wanting to keep talking to the lion. The man was a legend among supernaturals and Daniel had told her many stories. Meeting him was a lot like meeting Santa Claus or Superman.

He continued to talk to her for a while longer, but her father and her father's boyfriend eventually had to cut her off, knowing that she'd want to follow Jim around the festival if they didn't. They gave the blonde an apologetic expression before excusing themselves. Daniel made some comment about how they should all meet up sometime, but those from the original Sensational Seven felt as though he was drifting a ways away from them. It was fine. He was in a new relationship that came with a few new responsibilities, after all, but still… they were worried.

They continued on, happening upon a booth with a particularly long line. It was for a shop that opened up recently that was famous for its tea, but offered a few other items on their menu as well. It was called "The Black Cauldron", as it was mostly witches that ran the place. Their teas could function as potions and often bordered between that and regular tea. They had to pass rigorous tests in order to be able to open for business, given the nature of their dealings. The magic experts from HELLSING's Research Department, Mister Dafydd Blake and Miss "Wink," had to test each and every item that they intended to sell in order to determine quality and safety. A few items didn't pass, but were removed, and there were no problems with violations, so they were left alone, for the most part. They were popular, as while the effects of their teas were not as strong as a full potion, they tasted good and made people feel good. Either way, there was a close eye on them.

More importantly, however, Jim glanced over and saw his younger brother, Revy, and his friends leaving the line with very small cups of samples. He paid them no mind, as they appeared to be having a good time. Revy, along with Samantha Westley and Geraldine Midford, stepped to the side of the line and sipped their drinks before moving on. It was still cool out, so it warmed them up a bit.

"Huh… It is good..." Revy said. "I don't think I'll go out of my way for it, but if I ever want tea while I'm in Gehenna, it'll probably be my go-to."

"I'm probably going to go here more often! I could go to The Wolf's Glen, but I always feel kind of awkward, going in." Samantha confessed. "That place has a lot of historical importance to supernaturals, so I feel sort of weird going in."

"You can go in. Nobody will care. I'll take you sometime." the Macken suggested.

"I'll go, too." Geraldine piped up. "I wanna see it."

"I don't really know if I want to go in or not yet, though!" Samantha insisted.

"Aren't you the resident supernatural historian now? You should probably go just for that." the Midford woman suggested right back. Somehow, she felt pushier than usual, but she spoke her honest thoughts on the matter.

"Maybe… I'll think about it some more..."

"So, where to, next?" Revy asked, changing the course of the conversation. "You're the one who lives here, so what's good, Sam?"

"Uhm… Depends on what you want? There's the bakery, there's ice cream, what?"

"There's ice cream in Gehenna?"

"Yeah! It's just over there." Miss Westley said, pointing at the appropriate booth. With that, it was decided. The group changed lines and then went to wait patiently for ice cream.

Revy was in front, standing on the tips of his toes in order to read the options on the board. He squinted, wrinkling his nose and brow in concentration. Reaching up, he tried to rub his eyes, only for his fingers to stop at his sunglasses. Immediately, he felt stupid. The man was wearing sunglasses at night. He hesitated, but knowing where he was, he knew it couldn't hurt to remove them. It simply made him feel a bit self-conscious. Experimentally, he lifted them, exposing his eyes to the outside. They were icy blue, just like his elder brother, and they were black where there should be white. Immediately, he could read the options, only to discover that it was only basic flavours like vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry.

"For real?" he asked. "That's all they have?"

"It's just free stuff, Revy… They have other flavours, but they're inside the shop." Samantha replied. "You aren't paying, so don't worry about it."

"I guess you're right..." Carefully, he folded his glasses and stuck one of the legs into the collar of his shirt, leaving them hanging there while Samantha laughed at him. Her smile quickly fell, however, as she felt something slowly curl around her pinky finger.

She looked down, expecting something horrible, only to find it to be another pinky wrapped around hers. The hand it was attached to was soft, but had a rough spot on the palm that had been built up there from years of intense fencing training. Geraldine wasn't looking at her and instead kept a stoic expression, but it was somehow "off" from how it was normally. Samantha thought that she saw a bit more colour in the other woman's cheeks than she did normally, and there was a general sense of unease that seemed to radiate off of her. It was either that, or the electricity-like sensation Samantha got in her finger from coming into contact with the Midford's skin. None of this was like Geraldine. It was out of the ordinary and strange. The action lasted just long enough to change the hue of Samantha's cheeks before Geraldine's eyes shifted to the side in order to look at the Westley. What was worse was the fact that Samantha had been unwittingly staring at them, mesmerised by the other woman's luminous green eyes and long lashes.

"What flavour do you guys want?" Revy asked, breaking the silence as he looked over his shoulder. Immediately, Geraldine let go and allowed both her and Samantha's hands fall at their sides.

"Oh! Uh… Vanilla is okay." Samantha insisted, doing everything to regain her composure.

"Chocolate." Geraldine answered bluntly, as if there was never a moment where she was nervous at all. It was like everything that Samantha had saw in that moment either vanished or never existed at all.

Revy arched an eyebrow at Samantha's blatant unease before turning back around to order. The situation was not lost on others, however, as while standing on the other side of the street, a certain demon thought he caught a glimpse of something interesting. Ciel simply smiled slightly to himself, somewhat proud of his cousin before turning his attention back to the conversation he was having with Finnian. While the younger group had switched lines, the older group was now in the same tea line that Revy and the others found themselves in before.

Given that Logan can only indulge in beverages, he had tasked Kristopherson with being his taste tester for the evening in his stead. Figuring that this was probably the best place to start, given the length of the line, Kristopherson insisted that they stood in line for The Black Cauldron. Given that the line was so long, however, it was only natural that a problem would arise.

"Sorry, we're out of assam." the woman at the booth said with an apologetic look.

"Ah… Just our luck…" Jim sighed. "Oh well, life's like that sometimes. What else do you have?"

The woman opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again with raised eyebrows as she looked to the side of the menace. Following her gaze, he could see a young man approach him, holding out a cup. He had a big smile on his face and a bit of a blush as he spoke.

"Sorry about that, Mister Lion! I got the last one!" Jim recognised him as one of the people in the group that was in front of them. "You can have mine! I haven't taken a drink from it or anything yet."

"That's okay! I don't want to trouble you! You waited in line this whole time for it, so you should keep it!" the menace politely declined, but the man was adamant.

"Nah, don't worry about it. My friend said they'd share with me. It's the least I can do for all the stuff you've done for us." the young man insisted, but Jim was still hesitant.

He paused, only for Kristopherson to give him a light nudge. When the menace looked over at him, he silently told him to take the offer with his eyes. Thus, Jim relented and took the cup from his fan.

"Thanks!" he said. "As long as it's okay with you..."

"No problem! Enjoy the rest of your night!" with that, he turned around and started to walk off before turning around and waving while he walked backwards. He rejoined his friends as Jim's own left the line so the next customers could be serviced.

"You've just got fans all over, don't you?" his husband teased, prompting Kristopherson to laugh.

"I feel bad for taking it..." Jim stated while holding out the cup to Ciel. "It feels like I'm taking advantage… I don't really feel all that important, so I feel bad."

"I don't." Ciel said, taking the offered cup from his spouse before taking a sip. "People are grateful to you. Letting them express that without getting full of yourself is part of what makes you feel so down to earth."

"Yeah, Alois. You're not taking advantage of anybody at all." Kristopherson agreed. "You worry too much."

"I guess..." The menace didn't seem entirely convinced, but he tried his best. "So, where too, next?"

"I'd like some biscuits or something to go with my tea." suggested Finnian.

"Right, the bakery should be on this street somewhere… I hope they still have stuff!"

The group began walking again, still sipping their drinks. They did their best to conserve enough for any biscuits they might come across, although they did enjoy the warmth they got from them. Most of them did, anyway. Ciel, on the other hand, did not. He couldn't place what the feeling was, but it felt familiar- terrible, but pleasant at the same time, before then feeling terrible again.

His stomach felt warm and fuzzy before feeling like something was squirming inside. Quickly, he shook his head and hunched his shoulders, trying to escape the feeling, but nothing he did seemed to work. That was not an effect of assam tea.

"Are you okay?" the voice of the person next to him called, capturing his attention. In that moment, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It was like music without being musical. It was just an ordinary question asked on an ordinary day in an otherwise ordinary context, but it was pleasant to Ciel's ears and temporarily made him forget his woes.

"Yeah." he said. "That tea wasn't very good-" Turning his head, he raised his brows and stared at his husband, taking in his features and thinking of nothing else.

Smooth, pale, skin covered Jim's cheeks as they caused his eyes to crinkle in the corners when he smiled. His icy blue eyes and soft, flaxen hair contrasted the warm lights of the streetlamps that surrounded him, but if only made him look all the more stunning. Ciel's chest and stomach already felt warm, but now his face grew a bit more pink and his heart decided to change its tempo. The bluenette's mind screeched to a complete halt as he felt compelled to pay attention to nothing else but his husband.

"What is it?" Jim asked, feeling compelled to touch his chin as the other Phantomhive continued to stare. "Is there something on my face?"

"What? No..." Ciel answered, shaking himself back to reality. Still, his blush persisted as he found himself slightly embarrassed by how his stupor brazenly smacked him over the head. "You're just… you just look very handsome, is all."

His husband just giggled and took his arm, holding it close to his chest. It was like the blonde was hugging it with one arm while placing his opposite hand on Ciel's forearm as if the Watchdog were escorting him. "You're handsome, too." Jim said before taking a few steps forward in order to coax the other man into continuing to walk. "Come on! They have chocolate croissants!"

Ciel felt as though his heart did a flip inside of his chest before it started pumping like he was running a marathon. His face was flushed, although he did his very best to maintain his composure. He bent his elbow and started to escort his husband properly with is chin held high and parallel to the ground. It did occur to him that this reaction was perhaps unusual, as nothing appeared to have sparked it, but it wouldn't have been the first time that seeing the blonde framed in a certain way in certain circumstances provoked such a response. There were times where it seemed like the planets had aligned and somehow, Jim's radiance struck him in a particularly devastating way.

"So, what's up?" questioned the menace, snatching Ciel back from his mental fog for just an instant before his mind stumbled again.

"Hm?"

"You're awfully smiley..." Jim pointed out. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"Oh… Nothing, really. I just feel happy, I suppose." stated the Watchdog. He hadn't even realised he was grinning. Then, however, the gears in his head began to turn again and he remembered something very important. "I'm in the line for chocolate croissants and I have a handsome man on my arm. What shouldn't I be smiling?"

"You know gluttony is a sin, right?" jested the menace.

"That's a shame, because you know I am just incredibly concerned by sin." Ciel jested right back, moving his head so that he could nuzzle his husband's hair for a moment while Jim giggled.

"You two realise that we can still hear you, right?" Kristopherson chimed in. "Laying the flirting on really thick, you know… Look at Finny. You're traumatising him."

"I wouldn't go that far..." the gardener said with a smile and a slight pink tint to his cheeks. "It's just still a bit surprising to see Ciel acting so boldly!"

"Even if you aren't, I'm traumatised! I've seen way more of them than I ever want to..."

"That was like, two years ago!" Jim protested with a blush of his own.

"It haunts me." the wolfman said before putting a hand on Finnian's shoulder. "I hope that you never have to suffer the way that I have suffered..."

"There is nothing wrong with intimacy between spouses in public as long as we don't cross the threshold of being disruptive." Ciel stated rather seriously. Although he had started flustered, he recalled that Jim was indeed his husband and therefore it was not daunting that they may engage with each other in this way. It was not strange or unusual for Ciel to be stunned by his spouse's appearance, nor by his touch. If anything, it was a positive.

"What have you seen, Finny?" the wolfman continued to interrogate the poor gardener. "What horrors have you seen?"

"Nothing! The worst I've seen is them cuddling on the sofa while watching telly! I will admit, though… It's only surprising because when he was younger, the young master hated being touched or showing affection. It's kind of amazing that Jim can do that to him."

"He's a sweetie who just needed to get comfortable with the idea, is all." explained Jim, placing the hand that was on the Watchdog's forearm on Ciel's chest as he spoke. He blinked, however, when he felt the other man's heartbeat, noting the unusual nature of it's rhythm, but saying nothing. Come to think of it, the poor man looked to be burning up!

"Whatever. You can go get him comfortable, Finny and I are going to get some cream horns, because we're next." Kristopherson replied, putting a friendly arm around the gardener's shoulders. "If you're going to hold up the line, you should really step out of it."

"Shove your horn up your arse."

"I'm a top, thank you very much."

"_Now_ I'm uncomfortable." Finnian quietly noted before easily wiggling out of the wolfman's grasp. He got his pastry first and was quickly followed by the others.

As they stood out of line, eating their food, they stood mostly in silence, only piping up to comment on how good the food was. Ciel, however, was the first one finished, as he was prone to eating sweets with a particular voracious flair. That left him standing doing nothing, however, and he wasn't sure how to fill the silence. Instead, he scanned the area, looking for anything of interest.

There was more food to try, but nothing that he was particularly invested in seeking out right at that very moment. There were some games and crafts, too, that he thought might be fun to look at with the others, especially Jim. The menace was always a bit bashful about the sheer amount of lions that were depicted everywhere, which was always fun to see. There were a few artists out, peddling their works and it was amazing how often that not just lions, but Sir Phantomhive himself appeared in pieces. Ciel wanted to buy a few paintings, but knew that his spouse would be upset at him if he bought the actual amount that he wanted to, so perhaps it was best to stick with just one, that evening. None of them, however, could ever compare to the real thing.

"You're not getting mine, too." Jim playfully scolded, prompting the bluenette to realise he was staring.

"I wasn't-" The Watchdog cut himself off, realising that he couldn't explain. He just wanted to look at Jim. That's all there was to it. Unfortunately, that isn't really something he could say in front of their friends. Kristopherson was already rolling his eyes, giving Ciel a clue as to whether or not the wolfman suspected were his real intentions. Finnian, meanwhile, just chuckled. It seemed that Finnian was a lot more worldly than Ciel had expected as well.

"Hey, Finny," Kristopherson began, "they're having an arm-wrestling competition over there. You should join!"

"I dunno… Supernaturals are competing and I don't know if I can beat them..." the gardener replied.

"Don't you have superstrength or something? Come on. I'll join, too!"

"Looking for a chance to flex, Kris?" laughed the menace.

"You know it." answered the wolfman with a haughty smirk, raising an arm to flex his bicep. The fabric of his jacket strained to keep it trapped within. "What do you say, Finn? You in?"

"It could be fun…" Finnian passively trailed off, only to be whisked away immediately after.

Looking back over his shoulder, Kristopherson gave the Watchdog a pointed look before carrying on. It was met with only a look of confusion, as Ciel had no idea what was happening. Jim did, though. He spoke Kristopherson's language.

"Guess it's just us, then." the menace said with a mischevious smile. Holding onto Ciel's hand, he maneuvered it so that the Watchdog was holding him around his shoulders while Jim in turn put a hand in the small of his husband's back. Poor Ciel tensed up for a moment, yet instinctively held the menace a little tighter before calming back down. "Right?"

"Right." the bluenette nervously agreed. He wasn't sure where all of this flustered energy was coming from. "I-I suppose so. I didn't realise that Kristopherson and Finny were good friends, though..."

"He's trying to include him. He knows that Finny is still a bit 'new' to the group despite being an old friend, so he wants to make him feel welcome." Jim explained. "That, and I think he feels a bit left out, himself..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, his boyfriend's at home, yet here we are, enjoying the festival and hanging all over each other! I think he wants a friend." Pausing, the menace shook his head. "Not- Not in a 'Kris is hitting on Finny' kind of way, but you know what I mean?"

"I think so..." Ciel nodded, following along.

"They should be busy for a little while with that contest, so we should look around, right?"

"Right." The Watchdog seemed so sure, but easily went wherever Jim lead him with just a light push against his back.

They sampled a few more dishes and looked at a few crafts. With each table, however, Ciel felt distracted. Even Jim picked up on it, noticing how the poor Watchdog was unable to focus on what was happening because he was so focused on Jim! It made the menace laugh, however, so it was fine. It was cute how serious Ciel could be while also being so clueless at the exact same time.

There was a table where two women were making flowers out of paper. Impulsively, Lord Phantomhive paid a few coins for one, having picked it up, thought it was pretty, and connected the dots to his spouse. Instead of simply handing it to the baronet, however, he instead reached up and put it in his hair. Content with his handiwork, the Watchdog smiled as his spouse blinked momentarily before laughing.

"Why, thank you." the menace said. "How's it look."

"You look amazing." Ciel replied. "The flower is nice, too, I guess."

Playfully, the other man swatted at the Earl's arm with a blush and a smile on his face. "Oh my God, stop! You're so embarrassing!"

"You _are_ handsome, though."

"You're in a mood, aren't you?" Jim observed.

"Am I? Pray tell."

"You just seem really… _interested."_

"'Interested' how?"

"Romantically."

"We're married." Ciel pointed out.

"Yeah, but it feels like a date."

"Is that bad?"

"No, I'm super into it, but I feel a little bad, since we kind of dumped Kris and Finny." the blonde confessed, causing the other man to frown a bit.

"Oh, right… I actually forgot about them..."

"See? You've gone all mushy in the head!"

"Is that bad?"

"Fuck, no! It's cute as hell!"

"We can check on them if you want." suggested the Earl, indicating toward where the competition was being held with his eye. "If they're fine, though, I must say, I'd like to continue this."

"'Continue' how?"

"By having fun together?"

"What kind of 'fun'?"

"By continuing to explore and flirt with you." Ciel stated. "If you are insinuating that I might be interested in engaging in… more 'scandalous' activities while at a fair in Gehenna, then I'm sorry to inform you that while I am indeed feeling more amourous than usual, I am afraid that I'm going to have to deny you that."

"Pfft-! I didn't say anything." protested the menace with a cheeky flair.

"Yes, you did. Indirectly, but you did."

The pair wandered over to the arm-wrestling contest to check on the others and noticed that a crowd had gathered. They got rowdy, cheering as the announcer called on the next contestants, cheering, hooting, and hollering, but they did part in order to let the duo through. Once they were able to see what was happening, they found their lycanthrope friend sitting in a chair with another man across a table from him. The two were holding hands, but not in a friendly way, as both of them prepared to battle. Once the host gave them the "okay," they tensed their muscles, each trying to slam the other's knuckles into the table.

The scruffy-looking man that Kristopherson was pitted against looked like a werewolf as well. He was toned, but his muscles were nothing in comparison to Kristopherson's, so it was no surprise when Mister Miles made quick work with him after wearing him down. Once the audience heard the sound of flesh and bone hitting the table's surface, they cheered, prompting Kristopherson to stand and pose. He had taken off his jacket as the competition wore on, so now in his T-shirt, he flexed for the crowd. Typical of the wolfman, however, he liked to wear his shirts rather snug against him, so when he flexed, it ripped in the back, prompting him to grab the collar and tear it open across his chest with a howl. Kristopherson growled, baring his teeth in a snarling grin before he discarded the shredded shirt into the rowdy audience in front of him as they howled right back.

"I knew that Kristopherson is competitive, but this seems new." Ciel said quietly, leaning over so that he could talk in his husband's ear.

"Really? I think this is just his final form." Jim replied with a laugh before joining in with the voices of the crowd. While werewolves did not congregate in pack dynamics like most people mistakenly believe that wolves do, right then, the demons were witnessing the closest thing possible to an alpha male. Somehow, it made the Watchdog feel a twinge of envy.

The contest continued, however, with another round before the final. Kristopherson and his vanquished opponent cleared the stage and the announcer ushered in the next pair. First to arrive on stage was an ogre, grinning and shaking his fists in the air, as he let himself be carried by the hype that Kristopherson had whipped up. Naturally, the Phantomhives were a bit worried for their friend, as they didn't know if Kristopherson was able to beat him or anyone that could. His hands were huge and he had arms to match. While they weren't as defined as Kristopherson's, they were thicker, and there was no telling exactly how much muscle was there. The ogre was confident that he could win, beating his chest and putting on a good show for the crowd. Then, the Phantomhives were faced with a new problem. The one he was up against was none other than their gardener, Finny.

The much smaller man walked up onto the stage and waved with both of his hands while wearing a big, bright, grin on his face. His appearance, however, sparked even louder cheering, as he had impressed the audience throughout the entire event. Many of them could sense that he was human, and were stunned when he kept defeating supernaturals with his absurd strength. While one might suspect that it would be frightening for a bunch of supernaturals to see a human invading their realm of superior might, but no, he was greeted with enthusiasm as some sort of anomaly. He was exciting to them and they wanted to see if he could defeat the ogre.

The two of them sat down at the table and got in position. Finnian's opponent towered over him, but he still held out his hand. He was unfazed as the ogres' completely enveloped his, but he got comfortable, making sure that he had enough leverage as to not slip. The ogre smiled at him in a way that flew over his head. Finnian, being the pure-hearted gentleman he was, did not quite catch that he was looking down on, but perhaps it was for the best. The announcer struck the pot that they were using as a bell and the match began.

Both men flexed their biceps and held on tight. They furrowed their brows in concentration, but the ogre's smile began to fade. Finnian was holding his own and wavered for only a moment as he tried to gauge how strong the other was. In his many years of life, he had come to learn just how important it was to make sure that he didn't accidentally hurt people as well as how to master his own power. Slowly, he applied more pressure as sweat collected on his opponent's forehead. The blond was concerned, as the ogre's hand was getting sweaty. He didn't want to slip and slam his fist down hard enough to shatter the table. Gritting his teeth, the ogre did his best to control his breathing as he slowly began to lean with his arm in the way opposite to what he wanted. His eyes were wide as the gardener didn't seem at all vexed and wondered just how much longer he could keep this up. His arm was getting tired, but Finnian was just getting started.

Gently, Finnian pressed his opponent's knuckles into the table and steadily held him there. At first, the other man struggled, but soon realised that it was futile and just went limp. The "bell" rang again and the audience lost their minds. Finnian stood up and raised both hands in the air while his foe recovered, before offering the ogre a hand to shake. Finnian, unlike Kristopherson, was a bit more of a good sport, and wanted the other man to know that he had put up a good fight. With a small, humble, smile, the ogre accepted- with his other hand, of course. The one he just used was exhausted.

He soon left the stage and the announcer returned, ready to call Kristopherson back up. Now, the wolfman was at an impasse. After seeing that, he really didn't want to wrestle with Finnian. He didn't think he would even come close to winning, and he was worried about getting hurt. Unfortunately for him, however, after that show he had just put on, he knew he couldn't back out. This was a small town. He didn't want everybody who came through the doors of his shop to comment on it. Thus, when the announcer called him up, he accepted and put on a similar show of bravado that he did before. Finnian offered him a handshake, which he graciously took, before getting into position for the moment of truth. Could Kristopherson's beefiness match Finnian's demigod-like strength?

With the sound of the bell, they worked to find out. Kristopherson was pushing as hard as he can, giving it a genuine effort. Without rest from the previous match, his opponent could actually feel it a little, but it wasn't enough. Just like before, Finnian wavered before deciding how far to push Kristopherson and slowly, Kristopherson's arm began to bend backwards.

The wolfman grunted and growled from the strain, baring his teeth and squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he pressed on. His skin became shiny with sweat and his thighs pushed his legs into the ground as he tried to get enough leverage to make Finnian budge. The gardener would not, however. The gardener was too strong. In a last-ditch effort, Kristopherson somehow managed to push a little harder, making Finnian's hand move back a centimeter, only for the wolfman's eyes to go wide and for him to let out a scream of pain before his knuckles were slammed into the table, leaving dents in it's face. The crowd went absolutely nuts.

Immediately, Finnian let go and stood up with a look of concern and fear on his face. He watched as Kristopherson clutched his bicep and slumped over in his chair with his arm held closely against him. He gurgled, which made Finnian feel even more anxious.

"Oh, my God! Kristopherson! Are you alright?! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-!" Poor Finnian was cut off as the wolfman sat up and smiled at him. Pain was still present on his face, but he knew exactly what happened.

"It's not your fault." Kristopherson told him. "Pulled a muscle… Urgh… I tried too much..."

Jim did his very best not to laugh at that when he heard it. A snort came out, though, as that was just the sort of relationship that he had with Mister Miles. He laughed, not because Kristopherson was hurt, but because he was hurt in the same way that his boyfriend was. It was the exact same reason why Logan stayed home.

His husband, however, was not laughing. In fact, he frowned. He practically sulked. There was no reason why he should- he was aware of that, but still, he was jealous. It didn't make sense to be jealous, as there was nothing to be jealous of. It wasn't as though he had any competition when it came to the love of his spouse, but still… Somehow, watching Jim cheer on other men's more blatant displays of strength made him feel small and he did not like that one bit.

"Are you okay?" the menace questioned, pulling him out of his thoughts. Jim tilted his head and arched an eyebrow, looking at the Earl rather critically, as he had noticed a few shifts in Ciel's mood previously that evening.

When the bluenette saw his beau's face, however, his envy faded a bit and he stood up straighter. His shoulders were back, his chest was out, and his chin was almost parallel to the ground, but lightly tilted so that he looked more confident. Ciel was posturing for his beau, whether he was aware of it or not. He had the desire to be the most attractive man there for the baronet and he wasn't going to let some other brutes upstage him.

"I'm fine." he said simply, although clearly his emotions were a mess. His husband stared at him for a moment, clearly not believing him. Reaching down to grab hold of Ciel's hand, he smiled as the Watchdog properly turned to face him. Ciel's cheeks were dusted pink and his gaze was intense. It was a conflicted look. It was one of a man who clearly wanted something that he couldn't appropriately have in a public space.

"Hey… Follow me, real quick..." Jim instructed, tugging on Ciel's hand and starting to lead him through the crowd before the Earl could even think to reply. He was slow. His mind was still echoing the order and fixating on the blonde's tone of voice.

When his thoughts caught up with him, they drifted again, simply watching the back of his husband's head as the menace lead him away from the makeshift stage and down the street. Jim's hair looked soft. It was soft. Ciel knew that. It just occurred to him. He thought about how nice it would feel to play with the flaxen locks right then. As his eye continued to scan, he saw Jim's shoulders and appreciated how broad they were. He was led down another street, but didn't notice that there were no stalls or booths around until Jim started talking.

"Nobody should come down this way." the menace explained. "I'm the one who approved the plans. Everything is on Main Street, but even if people go down this one to go home, if we go through here..."

Next thing Ciel knew, he was being dragged between a couple of buildings, and after rounding another corner, they finally stopped. He took a moment in order to take in his surroundings before turning his attention back to the menace. Turning around to face him, the blonde offered him a smile.

"It's an alley!" he declared. "Also a dead end."

"It's lovely, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be looking at..." the Watchdog answered, only for his eyes to widen as he was grabbed by his jacket and pushed up against a wall. After handling him so roughly, his husband gently placed his hands on Ciel's chest with a mischievous, cat-like smile.

"There's nothing here. Just me." the baronet said. "You looked like you wanted to be alone with me, so here we are."

"I never..."

"...Said that? Didn't have to." The blonde's smile then softened as he gently rubbed his beau's chest with one hand. "Your heart's beating so fast..."

There was no use fighting it. Moreover, Ciel didn't want to. He wanted to allow his arms to embrace the menace and pull him closer, so he did.

"It is..." he sighed. "And I do want you for myself. It just isn't appropriate to act on impulse in a busy, public space like that."

"Well, we're alone, now, so what do you wanna do?"

What_ did_ Ciel want to do? Truth be told, he hadn't thought that far ahead. He was content with holding Jim and was completely relaxed against him until the blonde asked that question. The Watchdog didn't think that he wanted anything particularly risque or scandalous, but something did come to mind. He didn't know how to voice his want, however, which proved a bit challenging, but knowing Jim, he knew that the menace wouldn't mind if he just showed him. Thus, the bluenette leaned forward and pressed his lips against his husband's.

It felt like electricity ran through him. Jim's lips were soft- they always were- and Ciel could feel him smiling. The Watchdog shuddered lightly as one of the other man's hands ran up his chest and then neck, before stopping to caress his jaw. Slender fingers gently brushed against the bluenette's ear before the tips wound up in his hair. Lightly, Jim scrapped his fingernails against the flesh there and found himself pleased as Ciel held onto him tighter and sighed.

Things took a bit of a turn, however, when Jim decided that he wanted to see what would happen if he pushed things. Ciel was content with softly kissing his spouse, but Jim wanted to know. Thus, he parted his lips slightly and gently coaxed his beau to do the same with his tongue. Once he did, the two met in the middle, but as soon as the tips of their tongues met, it was like a switch had been flipped for the Watchdog. He held the blonde firmly, but stepped forward, forcing Jim to step back. Adjusting their positions, the Watchdog reached up in order to cradle the back of the blonde's head with his hand so that it wouldn't be uncomfortable or accidentally hit the brick too hard as Ciel pressed him up against the opposite wall of the alley. Poor Jim was gripping onto fistfuls of Ciel's jacket for dear life as the other man explored his mouth, but he wasn't afraid- only swooning.

The Earl was assertive- not aggressive. He often could be in times like this. While he was indeed a considerate man, he wasn't a pushover, but do not be mistaken: he has no interest in barbaric displays of hollow dominance. The Phantomhive simply knew what he wanted and felt comfortable in going after it. If it ever became too much for his beau, he would back away without complaint.

He did pull away, however, just to check in and see his husband's face. Both of their cheeks were flushed and so were their lips. Their breathing was heavy and their heartrates were quickened. Hair had been ruffled out of place, leading the bluenette to let go of the other man for a moment in order to reposition the paper flower in his beloved's locks so that it would not fall out onto the dirty ground. He smiled at his handiwork, placing his palm against the brick wall as he admired Jim for a moment. Then, he could no longer ignore the compulsion to kiss the other man's cheek.

"Jesus, Ciel..." Jim panted. "You're so bad..."

"How so?" The Watchdog's voice surprised them both as it came out sounding a lot more husky than expected.

"We totally just ditched our friends to snog in an alley. That's pretty bad."

_"'__We?' _You're the one who led us, here." Ciel remided, smiling as the blonde shuddered from having kisses trailed along his jaw.

"Well, you're the one who looked all lovestruck and stuff… What else am I supposed to do when you're looking at me like that the whole time? What's with you, anyway? You've been acting weird." Pulling away again, the Watchdog looked at him like he had just remembered something. "What?"

"Oh, uh… Well, I started really feeling it after drinking that tea… I started feeling a bit… 'funny' after that..."

"What?!" gawked the blonde, snapping from his daze. The abruptness of it startled the Watchdog as Jim stood away from the wall. "Un-fucking-believable!"

"What?"

"That shop does _not_ have permission to be selling any libido-altering drinks! They were specifically barred from it! Son of a bitch… I need to call this in… We'll have to investigate and have the place searched. We'll also need to take you in to the Research Department tomorrow and have you tested."

"For what?"

"Whatever kind of potion was put into that tea!" Immediately, Jim rather seriously pulled out his phone and dialed it. He began to passionately rely the situation and what needed to be done about it to the person on the other end. Once that call was done, he hung up and dialed again, this time talking to the Research Department.

Poor Ciel didn't know what to do. He just stood there, idly for a moment and rubbed his chin. Then, he eventually leaned against the wall as he waited for his spouse to finish making arrangements while staring down at his feet. He kicked a pebble and watched it bounce off the opposite wall as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Although he knew that this needed to be done, he couldn't help but be a bit disappointed in the moment ending. More childishly, it was a bit of a let down that the attention was no longer on him. He lifted his head, however, as Jim hung up the phone after a few more calls in a very clear huff. Turning around, the blonde saw Ciel, only to be greeted by a rather awkward smile. At that, Jim realised that he had left the bluenette hanging in all of this, so he put his phone away and walked over to comfort him.

"I'm sorry." Jim cooed, kissing the Watchdog's cheek while resting his hands on the man's shoulders. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad that someone did this and that it has to become a whole big thing, now."

"It's alright. I understand." Ciel replied. "So, what's this about testing?"

"We have to test the teas in The Black Cauldron's shop, so we need someone down here soon. They're sending some people to get covert samples of the tea they're giving out. They're also going to send an agent around to help the police find the guy who handed it to me. As for you, we're going to take you to HQ and Wink is going to find out exactly what we're dealing with, here."

"Oh, joy. I can't wait." sarcastically answered the bluenette, but he smiled.

"I'm sorry. We can still cuddle later, if you want."

"O-okay." Ciel answered, blushing as the menace kissed his other cheek.

_"__Now_ you're shy? After all that? Really?" the blonde teased with an arched eyebrow. "You know, you're kind of silly, you know that?"

With a roll of his eye, Ciel groaned, prompting his beau to laugh. Still, he accepted the attention he was being given and couldn't complain. Truly, this was all he really wanted. "You're going to be the death of me..."

"Why? Because I make you feel things?"

"Because you make me feel _too many_ things."

"Too bad. I'm not going to let you die, so I guess you'll just have to suffer for all eternity." the menace playfully said. "By the way…" he began, sliding his hands down to Ciel's chest again. "Have I ever told you that you look sexy in leather?"

Immediately, the Watchdog's entire face flushed bright red. It was exactly the response that Jim was hoping for. It was cute, so he laughed. He placed a quick kiss to the bluenette's lips once more, noting how hot they were from the man's blush, before pulling away again and taking a few steps back.

"We should probably go before things get heavy and the others start looking for us." he suggested. He waited as the other man stared at him for a moment in order to regain his senses before clearing his throat."

"Quite right..." the Watchdog finally answered, stepping away from the wall and standing upright. As he saw his beloved turn to walk away, however, he found himself unable to deny one impulse quick enough. No- that was not true. He wanted to do it and knew that the menace would be amused, so he did.

Jim's eyes went wide and his cheeks turned pink as he felt a light pinch to his bottom. He whipped his head back around to see Ciel staring at him, trying to stifle a smile as he put a hand back in his pockets. The Watchdog then continued to walk until he was at the blonde's side, facing forward, but still watching out of the corner of his eye for the menace to do something.

Furrowing his brow lightly, the blonde smirked. "You minx..."

"Funny, I thought I was a dog?" the bluenette quipped back, but it wasn't good enough, as he was forced to jump when the menace gently patted him in the same spot.

"You are. A horn-dog. Think you can keep it in your pants long enough to round everybody up and leave?"

"O-of course I can!" Ciel answered with a rather stern, but clearly embarrassed expression on his face.

"Sounds fake, but okay." Jim's smile began to fade as he saw that the other man's face didn't change. "Hey… Hey, I'm sorry… Was that too much? I didn't mean to embarrass you like that… Ciel?"

The Earl hesistated for a while, but then finally looked at the menace again. "Can we still hold hands?"

"Of course we can!" swiftly and eagerly answered the baronet as he reached down and fulfilled his beloved's request. "We can hold hands all you want!"

"No, I'm sorry… I'm not- I'm not my best self, this evening." the bluenette confessed. "It feels like my emotions are all over the place. I just really want to… ugh…" He paused, bringing his freehand to his forehead. "I want to do lovey-dovey stuff with you. Not necessarily sex, but- I mean, I'm open to the idea, but… Bugger, why am I so _sensitive?"_

Jim paused to think for a moment. "We definitely need to see what's going on." he said. "In the meantime, I'll try to be a little more careful. If you need something, though, you need to tell me."

"Alright… There's more, but it will be easier to explain when we don't have things to do."

"Got it." Jim nodded as he led the other man out of the alleyway and back out onto the street. From there, he let go of the bluenette's hand briefly so that he could hold onto his beau from around his arm. Then, with his opposite hand, he reached over and tangled their fingers together. "I love you, darling."

Instantly, the bluenette's face shifted and he felt more calm. He grinned a big, bright, goofy grin and he shocked his spouse by letting out an unconscious giggle. It was a complete change from he demeanor from before. "I love you, too, Jimmy!"

* * *

**A/N: This is a strange chapter... A lot has happened...We're startin' with some freaky shit lmao**

**It was actually a hard chapter to write? Ciel's already an idiot for Jim, so it's hard to make him MORE of one in a way that seems out of the ordinary. Something is indeed wrong with him, though. Could be? A mystery?**

**Yea. We're gonna investigate some shit.**

**Also: Not as important, but I named this chapter after a _Japanese Breakfast_ song lmao. It has nothing to do with anything, I just like it.**

**Uh... what else? I don't know. Ya boys are weird. That's all there is to it, I guess?**

**I'm really glad I wrote most of this immediately after posting the last chapter tbh. I had a rough week and next week is gonna be rough, too, so just know that I'm hanging in there!**

**So many papers... So many... I perish...**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	4. Letting The Flowers Grow

Ciel winced as the needle went into his arm. He felt that the protective suit that the witch was wearing was a bit excessive, but then again, when dealing with demon blood, one could never be too cautious. Wink then took the sample and squirted a small amount into a glass container with a clear liquid in it before placing the syringe in a silver box that was being held by an agent from the custodial department dressed in a much more heavy-duty hazmat suit. She rolled her stool over to a small set of drawers that were on her desk and rapidly began adding ingredients to the mixture with lightning speed. She occasionally adds other liquids that she had prepared beforehand and then mixes it with a wooden stick. All the while, she asked the demons question.

"So about this 'strange behaviour...'" she began. "You said a visit to that magic tea shop did it?"

"Most likely." Ciel answered. "I started feeling strangely immediately afterwards."

"You don't look that strange to me." Wink replied. "What's been the problem? Heart palpitations?"

"Yes, and I can't seem to stop thinking about or paying attention to my spouse." the Watchdog continued. "Ordinarily, that's a good thing, but I keep getting distracted."

"Okay." The woman replied, setting the container down for a moment and removing her mask and hood. She then rummaged around her desk for a moment and removed a glove. "I'm going to leave that to sit for a minute." she explained before rolling her stool over to the bluenette. "Open your eye and don't blink."

She held the bluenette's eye open with her fingers and shined a small flashlight into it, noting his pupils. Then, she pulled away and gave her next instruction. "Turn your head and look at Sir Phantomhive really quick." The Watchdog did as he was told and she did her best to shine the light at the awkward angle. After getting what she needed, she pulled away again before writing something down at her desk.

The two demons simply arched an eyebrow at her before waiting her next set of questions. "What about libido?" Immediately, the bluenette blushed and fell silent, prompting his husband to speak up.

"It's increased." he said simply, blushing a bit himself. Luckily, Wink didn't need much explanation.

"General behaviour?"

"He's been very… clingy." Jim said further. "He is very distracted, like he said, and his mood swings. That isn't like him at all."

"How do they 'swing?'" Wink questioned.

"They're more intense. He said that's how it feels, and from where I'm standing, I kind of agree with him. He got needlessly envious of our friends during an arm-wrestling competition last night because they were more macho than him."

"I realise it was unreasonable, too, and ordinarily, it wouldn't bother me..." Ciel explained.

"Well, we'll see what's wrong." the witch stated. "That doesn't line up with a libido potion, and we couldn't find anything in the samples from the shop we collected last night. Ordinarily, I would be able to sense some hint of magic from holding the blood sample, too, but since you're a demon, it was hard to pinpoint anything extra."

She wheeled over to her concoction and examined it, picking it up and holding it to the light. After stirring it again, she looked twice before holding it out so the demons could see it. "The mixture is pink." She pointed out as if they couldn't see that. "That's not a libido potion. It has some similar ingredients, but that's not it. What you've been given, Lord Phantomhive, is a love potion."

"What, for real?!" gawked the menace, looking to his beau and then back again. His eyes were wide and there was a distinct look of horror on his face. Ciel turned to face him upon hearing his voice and felt bad. He felt bad because Jim was feeling bad. He hoped the blonde was alright.

"It lines up with what I'm seeing." Wink answered. "His pupils are wide when he looks at you and he sounds hyper fixated, which ties in to his distractabiliy, Sir Phantomhive. You said that you're the one who handed him the drink, right? That's why he's picked you. You're extremely lucky it wasn't someone else."

"The man who handed it to me!" Jim blurted out. "He's the one who did it!"

"I don't know if they're still looking for him. That's not my department. As I was saying, though, you're lucky. Ordinarily, you can tell when a person is under the influence of a love potion. It's called that, but it isn't really 'love.' It's infatuation. The victim becomes obsessed with the one who administered it and will do whatever they want of them. They aren't right, you can tell by looking at them. I couldn't tell with the Earl, here, though. Tell me, does he act autonomously? That is to say, does is he able to seek things out on his own without being asked? That includes any favours, too."

"Yes." the menace replied. "At least, I think so… He put a paper flower in my hair?"

Turning her head, the witch finally addressed Ciel. "Can you tell me why you did that?"

"I- uh…" The poor Watchdog was not used to discussing this sort of thing in front of casual acquaintances, so he hesitated a bit. "Well, I thought it would look pretty… I wanted to see him wear it, I guess."

"That's that, then." nodded the witch before making a few more notes. "My guess is that because you already love Sir Phantomhive, the love potion isn't going to work like it normally does. Instead of creating an infatuation that resembles that of a crush, you appear to be actually experiencing heightened feelings associated with love. It's a pretty interesting case."

"So… He isn't being controlled or anything, right?" nervously inquired the blonde. "He's still 'him,' isn't he?"

"Seems so." the woman answered.

"Oh, thank God..." Jim let out a sigh of relief.

"That could be a double-edged sword, though." Wink continued. "He'll be acting on his own wants, and from my understanding, that means that you'll have to contend with any neediness or coddling he wants and you won't be able to tell him to quit."

"I'll do my best to stay out of trouble." Ciel chimed in, but Wink seemed unimpressed. It wasn't personal, however. That was just how she was.

"Good for you." she said. "I'll need to take samples from you every week to monitor your progress until the potion is out of your system. Normally, these things last around thirty days, but because you're a demon, your body should be able to break it down faster. Call me if anything changes."

"Alright." the Watchdog answered, clearing his throat from embarrassment as he stood. "Thank you for your help..."

The two men quietly left the Research Department's wing of the building before making their way out to their car. They were silent for the entire duration of their journey. Once they were close, Jim unlocked the doors before opening the passenger side door for his beau. Ciel took him up on the offer and stepped inside, waiting to break the silence until the other man was situated. There, in the privacy of the Mercedes, he did not deny his curiosity any longer.

"Are you alright?" he asked, capturing Jim's attention.

"What?"

"You seemed upset in there...'

"Oh..." Jim let out a nervous laugh. "I mean, I was really kind of scared for a minute, there… I thought I might have… Y'know… Taken advantage of you while you weren't- while you weren't able to say 'no,' okay?"

"I understand." nodded the bluenette. "That is scary. I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault. None of this is. I'm not upset with you at all."

"I know, but still… I, uh… If it weren't for my' insistence'..."

"…We wouldn't have done it twice last night?"

"Right..."

"I don't mind." Jim replied, stretching. "As long as you're able to consent, it's all good."

"I'm sorry for this morning, too..."

"Ciel, the only reason why I said 'no' is because we had an appointment."

"Yes, but I'm worried that my 'appetite' might become a bit of a problem." answered the Watchdog. His cheeks were red as he rubbed his forehead. "I don't want to put pressure on you, either."

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, just ask if you need something, okay? If I can give it to you, I will, if I can't or don't want to, I won't." Pausing, the blonde looked over at his beau, who still looked a bit unsure. "Okay?"

"Alright..." the other man hesitantly agreed before chuckling. "Some of the things that pop into my head are a bit silly, though."

"Try me." Jim dared, only to realise just how silly these requests could get upon arriving back home.

"Ciel… you're so goofy..." he said as he walked out of the dressing room and into their bedroom. His beau was sitting on the bed, smiling with a slight pink tint to his cheeks as he appreciated the sight. It wasn't anything special or daring. Jim was just wearing the leather jacket that Ciel was wearing the night before is all. Still, it somehow pleased the Watchdog immensely.

"I know, but it never got chilly out, so I didn't get to offer it to you." the Watchdog explained. He was grinning like a complete fool, so Jim couldn't bear to tease him about it too terribly much. "You look cute."

"Isn't it a bit cliché to offer your date your jacket?"

"Never. Every man wants to do it, at least proper ones, anyway. It's just a natural compulsion to want to take care of the person you love, and besides, it really does look cute."

"It's a bit big, though… Are you sure you're not just trying to mark me as yours?" smirked the menace, noting how flustered his spouse got at the suggestion.

"I mean- I-I've already properly done that by putting a ring on your finger." Ciel reminded. "Besides, you're a free man. You don't belong to anyone."

"Oh? But what if I want to be your man?" questioned Jim with a tilt of his head. "That's why I wanted to marry you! Are you saying that doesn't count for anything?"

"It does! Of course, it does! You're my husband!" announced the Watchdog with piqued enthusiasm. He was earnest as always, and the sincerity of the otherwise odd declaration made the menace snicker.

"Baby, do you know how cute you are?" the blonde asked, stepping forward. "You're very cute. Extremely cute. A real gentleman, too. I've got a really good husband, don't I? Even if he's gone silly from potions!"

Ciel paused, as if allowing that to soak in. After a few moments, he slumped over, falling onto his side on top of the mattress without a word. He covered his face with his hands, but Jim could still see his blush, as it was all the way up to his ears.

"What's wrong, dear heart?" questioned the menace, sitting down on the bed with the other demon and placing a hand on his shoulder. Sheepishly, the Earl finally looked up at him, peeking through his fingers.

"I like hearing you say nice things to me..." he bashfully replied. His voice was barely audible, but it rang out loud and clear to the baronet. Jim's eyes softened and so did his smile.

"Let's see, then… Things I like about you..." the blonde began with a grin. He began rubbing the other man's shoulder as he spoke. "I like that you wear earrings. They're cute and kinda quirky. I like seeing which ones you pick out everyday. I like your smile and the way you laugh. I like how caring you are and how smart you are. I like how you like sweet things. I like your scars and I like the way you dress. You have really good taste in menswear and the stuff that goes with it. Your eyes are pretty. Your eyelashes are pretty. Your hair is pretty. I like that it's the same colour all over. I like the way you hug. You're really good at it. Everything fits just right and you always know just the right firmness. You feel so strong and safe."

Ciel had covered his face again and was giggling like a schoolboy as the menace spoke, watching over the bluenette with a very pleased expression. Leaning down, Jim kissed the side of Ciel's head and he covered Ciel's hands, trying to hook his fingers underneath them so that he could pry them off of his face. "Come on! I wanna see your face~!"

"No!" the Watchdog protested, turning over on his stomach so that Jim had a harder time looking. "It's embarrassing!"

"I want to see your cute face, though~! Pretty please~?"

The Watchdog let out a groan as his beau continued to talk to him in that sickly sweet voice he used whenever he was trying to be cute. It worked, though, because the longer Ciel laid there, the more he realised that if he did what the blonde told him, the more he would be praised. Being praised by his husband was almost always worth it, as whatever shame that Ciel thought he might experience was usually nonexistent in reality. Thus, he hesitantly raised his head, pushing his shoulders up off of the mattress with his hands before turning to look at the menace. Jim, of course, flushed red and immediately collapsed on top of the bluenette, wrapping his arms around him while nuzzling in between his shoulderblades.

"You're cute!" Jim declared. "Your face is so sweet! Oh my God… Is it bad that I love this as much as I do?"

"Well, maybe, but I like hearing stuff like that normally." Ciel somewhat bashfully explained. "Helps me stand up a bit straighter."

"Then I'll have to tell you all the time! Usually, I want to, but I'm not as pretty with words as you are."

"Doesn't matter. I still enjoy it."

Jim lifted his head to look at his beau and the Watchdog looked right back, saying nothing, but exchanging smiles. Then, as if they planned it, they both started to laugh. The sound of a phone ringing brought that to a halt as Jim's phone vibrated on his nightstand. With a grumble, he reluctantly got up off of his spouse and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Alois!" a voice called out on the other end of the line, immediately causing Jim's eyes to roll. If he rolled them any harder, they would have gone all the way back into his skull. "I heard you were at the Research Department testing for love potions?"

"Don't call me that. It's 'Sir Phantomhive,' to you." Now, Jim was not a fan of the sort of pretentiousness where a noble irritably corrected every single person who could not immediately tell that they were some kind of higher being or some nonsense. It was unsightly and to Jim's eyes, pathetic. Yet, there were times, however, when he preferred that distance and found that putting another person in their place was beneficial, so in a way, Dafydd Blake was special. He got the formal treatment. "What do you want?"

"Sheesh, my apologies, my lord." Dafydd replied with a slight chuckle. "I was just wondering if Wink did her job okay. I mean, it's been a couple of months, but she's still technically new. I don't want it to accidentally be something else because of some mistake!"

"I trust her judgement. She's a very powerful, very knowledgable witch."

"That's true, that's true, but I'm still the head of magical research, here, and I think that it might be best if I'm the one who gives you the next test."

"Fuck off. I don't trust you with myself, so there's no way I'm going to put Ciel in your hands." The Lion stated, raising his voice slightly. The tone of his voice made his husband sit straight up and stare at the menace intently. His ears were trained and his focus was honed in.

"Don't think I haven't forgotten about that time _you_ slipped _me_ a love potion when we were in school!" Jim continued. "Honestly- No, wait- that's suspicious as fuck! Why aren't you being investigated? You clearly know how to make it! Granted, you were shit at it back then, so it didn't work, but for all I know, you could've improved since then!"

"Listen, I'm just trying to look out for what's best for you… And your…" Dafydd hesitated. "..._family_..."

"You'll stay the fuck away from my family, that's what you're gonna do!" The menace opened his mouth to continue berating the warlock, but the phone was snatched from his grasp by the Earl, having heard enough of this conversation. Jim stared up at him with wide eyes as Ciel placed the phone to his ear and puffed out his chest with a nasty scowl.

"You heard him. We're sticking with Wink and that is final. You've been told more than once not to call for any reason that does not include a life or death situation. You need to stop." The Watchdog's voice was low, deep, and loud as he completely shifted from the bashful man who was so giddily enjoying his husband's praise before.

"I'm not calling for personal reasons." the warlock insisted. "Clearly, you need help. All I'm trying to do is make sure that you get it. There's no reason to get heated..."

"Why should we believe you, a known liar with boundary and entitlement issues? This very well is a reason to get 'heated.' You've been harassing my spouse for years and have done things that would not fly today. You will not tamper with the appointments with any way and you will not speak to Jim while we are there."

"I will say whatever it is that I need to say." Dafydd angrily spouted, doing his best to stay level. "You are clearly unhinged and now Alois is stuck taking care of you while you act like a gorilla!"

"It's '_Sir Phantomhive_.' You will call him 'Sir Phantomhive' and nothing else."

"I will call him whatever I like."

"Tell me, Blake, do you not enjoy having teeth?"

"Are you- Are you threatening me?!"

"You threatened first by continuing unwanted contact. I will be talking to Dame and Sir Hellsing about your conduct and if you continue to try and tamper with Phantomhive affairs, I will choke you with that ridiculous mullet of yours and throw you in front of a bus!"

Ciel's voice was booming as he gave the warlock his ultimatum. Dafydd should have counted himself lucky. If he hadn't been on the other end of a phone, he would have been shaking. Then again, in his heated state, Ciel might have done more than merely threaten. The Watchdog didn't know. All that he did know was that he was agitated and needed to protect his spouse. With his brow still furrowed, he got his breathing under control before finally turning to face the menace in question, realising that he perhaps had displayed a bit of an unsavoury side of himself in front of his beloved. He wished that he could say that he felt ashamed, but really, he was still to irritated to get to that point quite yet.

Jim sat on the bed with one leg crossed over the other, clearly waiting until Ciel was done. He didn't seem upset, but he didn't seem entirely pleased, either. It was more like he was waiting to see how things turned out. He nodded to himself, as if reaching some kind of verdict before gently taking the phone from Ciel's hand and placing it back on the nightstand. As if collapsing underneath the blonde's touch, the Watchdog released his grip immediately and allowed Jim to take his hand in his own.

"Thanks for that." Jim finally said while kneeding his beau's fingers between his own. "I might've kept trying to reason with him until I blew up. You okay?"

"I makes me so mad..." the Watchdog growled. "The sheer audacity he has… I hate how he treats you and am just a hair away from thinking that perhaps putting him down is the best option."

"Don't kill him. You can rough him up, but don't kill him. You'll get in trouble."

"I would rather endure punishment than allow him to continue speaking to you like that." As rough as his words were, Ciel had in fact begun to calm down as the other man began kissing his fingers. "I am more than aware that you can take care of yourself, but standing back idly… It doesn't sit well with me."

"'It's a natural compulsion to want to take care of the person you love,' right?" Jim replied, echoing their previous conversation. "I like that nurturing side of you. It's really sweet. Just don't murder or maim people frivolously, alright? For me?"

The menace had said the magic words and he knew it. Even when not under the effects of some potion, Ciel was weak to the dreaded "for me?" tacked onto the end of a request. In his current state, however, those words were worth more than a mountain made of gold.

Rosy tint returning to his cheeks, the fury Ciel felt had melted away a bit more, leaving him to nod his head. "Alright..." he agreed. "For you."

"You're going to be a bit of a handful, aren't you?" the blonde teased.

"Sorry, I'm doing my best… I just feel so… _sensitive _all of a sudden."

"There's nothing wrong with being sensitive."

"There is when it becomes a hindrance. I'll try to keep my temper and my neediness to a minimum."

"Can you really do that? Emotions don't always act the way you want them to. If you really need something, you should tell me. I mean, I need to work sometime, and so do you, so I can't be cuddling with you 24/7, but I don't mind giving you a little more lovin' than usual."

"Right. I should- I should probably cool my head..."

"If the potion makes you want to be around me all the time, maybe you should test it?" Jim suggested. "Go for a ride. See how long it takes for you to miss me and if it gets too much, come right back."

"Are you sure you're not just trying to get rid of me?" Ciel jested with a raised eyebrow.

"Probably." laughed the menace. "I do need to get some work done. I mean it, though. Come right back when you need to."

"Alright…" nodded the Watchdog. "I think it's a good idea. I haven't left your side since drinking the potion, so it might be beneficial to test it. Although, I already feel a bit uneasy about it..."

"If Dafydd calls again, I'll hang up."

"That makes me feel better."

Although they agreed on it, Ciel still dragged his feet a bit while getting suited up to go for a ride on his motorcycle. Clearly, he still didn't want to leave, so Jim was expecting the Watchdog to be back very quickly. At least he looked good in his jacket and gloves, but it was dangerous for Jim to say that out loud, as it would only make Ciel want to stay! Unbeknownst to him, however, Ciel already recalled Jim's opinions on leather from the night before, as he wasn't the type to forget such things, and unconsciously puffed out his chest a bit, posturing specifically to be a pleasing sight for his spouse.

Eventually, however, he was ready to go with his helmet in hand. He still presented his cheek to the menace, wanting a quick peck. With that to tide him over for a bit, he set off, leaving the blonde to try and work on whatever he could while Ciel was away. After all, there was an investigation underway for the breaking of a high-ranking crime in Gehenna. That was something for him to be concerned about.

Eventually, he did receive another phonecall, this time, it was from Elizabeth. Her agents had found the man who they believed gave Jim the spiked tea, and she had sent them his image for Jim for identification. With the phone still pressed to his ear, he opened his email on his laptop and found it.

"That looks like him, though, to be fair, I wasn't really paying attention to him when I saw him." he informed. "I'm not sure if it's really all that helpful."

"Don't worry, we can still manage. Our investigators are professionals; they can get a confession without forcing one. At the very least, we'll be able to rule him out if he didn't do anything." Elizabeth answered, causing the menace to tilt his head.

"Why? Do you think he's innocent?"

"I'm not sure… He's very cooperative, which either means he's innocent or thinks he can get away with something. We'll see. Personally, don't think he looks like the sort, but you never know. Charming criminals exist and are the most dangerous kind."

"Well, tell me how it goes. I don't want to stay in the dark about this."

"Actually, we do have some information already. It's just base-level stuff and it might not even be true, since he's still being pressed, but we also have agents out there confirming it." The woman continued. "He doesn't work at the tea shop, we know. It makes sense, since no other tea at the fair was affected, given the samples we gathered last night. We've gotten some from the shop today as well, but are still on the fence about asking to see their facilities..."

"Don't want to tip any of them off yet?" Jim asked.

"No, we're not sure if we want to do that just now… We're going to have to let out something soon, though, because people have noticed that the police and our agents are on the move. It's a small town with little crime, so it's hard not to notice..."

"Right, and if it turns out this guy you have isn't it, then when you turn him loose, he's going to start telling people about why he was arrested."

"Unfortunately, yes. We want to test today's samples before that. Personally, I'd also like your advice. The newspapers want something, but I'm having trouble figuring out what to give them."

"Not sure… If we announce everything, they could try to tamper with evidence or skip town. At the same time, though, there's a good chance that if someone knows something, they'll turn them in." the menace theorised. "Either way, you're going to have to interview the people who work at The Black Cauldron and test their facilities, so it's going to get out. I think you should launch that phase of the investigation and then announce it shortly after. Also, see if the guy you've got now has any friends."

"That sounds reasonable." the Hellsing woman conceded. "We'll continue to work as quickly as we can." She paused, changing gears along with her tone as the subject then shifted. "By the way… How_ is _Ciel?"

"Emotional. Very clingy and goofy. He did threaten Dafydd when he called us this morning, trying to ket me to switch appointments from Wink to him."

"Oh, dear… I'll see if I can have a word with him… Again…"

"That would be nice. These weren't like, ordinary Ciel threats, they were very direct. I told him to take a ride on his bike to cool his head. He should be back soon."

"Alright, I'll leave you to get as much done while you can."

"Thanks for the update, Lizzie. I'll see if I can find a second opinion, in the meantime. Bye-bye." With that, the Phantomhive hung up, staring at his phone for a moment. Then, he decided to dial Kristopherson to see what he had noticed.

Meanwhile, however, his beau was making impressive progress in creating distance between them, somehow determined to do a good job at avoiding his spouse. His mind continuously wandered, however, and he couldn't help but to ponder how nice it would be if Jim were riding on the back of his bike with him. He always liked riding around with Jim, but it felt like they didn't get to do it for whatever reason. There shouldn't be any, right? What was stopping them, really? Ciel thought that perhaps this should be the next "favour" that he asks of the menace, but his thoughts did not end there.

These lands he rode through used to be all Phantomhive property. Much of it still was, but the further he ventured, the more there was of land that he had either sold off as he could no longer maintain it like he used to as an Earl, or was reclaimed by the state. Much of it had changed, but also, much of it had stayed the same. A few of the farms that used to work under him were still there, only now they were either independent or owed by a different company. There was a village in between the estate and London, as well. It wasn't officially a separate town, but it was recognised as its own place. There were houses and little shops frequented by both newcomers and by folks whose families had been there for hundreds of years. It had been a long time since Ciel had stopped by and actually looked around. In fact, it occurred to him that this might be an excellent date opportunity! He mentally added it to the list as he slowed down his pace. It was dangerous to ride too quickly with so many cars and people around. There weren't a lot of them, but just enough.

There was a general store and a repair shop. There was a pharmacy and a few other little bits and bobs, but one shop in particular caught Ciel's attention. It was the florist's of course. In his lovestruck stupor, he almost slammed on the breaks in the middle of the street when he saw it, but gained enough sense to pull over safely. Before he could really even think of any potential consequences or the practicality of this, the Watchdog's hand was on the handle of the front door and he opened it.

Now, the women who were working that day were rather shocked to see him. Most people were, unfortunately. He was a tall, muscular, man with dark hair with an odd, blue tint, wearing a leather motorcycle jacket and an eyepatch. Depending on the situation, he could be perceived as dark, brooding, and handsome. In these instances, he was extremely well-received. At others, however, he was perceived as being potentially dangerous. It didn't help him any that he wore an expression on his face that was deathly serious, almost giving off the impression that he was here for a fight.

He looked around for a little bit, trying to decide what he was actually there for. He didn't want to give his beau flowers that had some awful meaning. It didn't matter that Jim wasn't actually familiar with the language of flowers, it was important to Ciel. All the while, he was so focused that he didn't notice the intensity with which he was being watched by the staff. Occasionally, their staring was interspersed with glances to each other as they silently debated as to what they needed to do, but eventually, one of them was pushed forward with the insistence that they would be the one to talk to the ferocious-looking man. Of course it was the youngest member of staff- some poor girl trying to pay for her first car. Meekly, she walked up to Ciel at a slow pace before eventually capturing his attention.

"I-is there anything specific that you're looking for… sir?" she questioned, jumping as the Earl quickly turned his head to face her. His eye was scary! His face was scary! Everything about the way he looked at her was scary! But then, all at once, his face shifted as he finally understood what she was asking.

"Oh! Uh… I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, actually..." His face softened and his cheeks were a bit pink as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. Suddenly, he seemed rather approachable and unfortunately, it took everything in the shopkeep's power not to utter the sigh of relief that threatened to escape her. Then, the bluenette looked at her a bit more directly.

"I was hoping you might have something ready made that I can give to my husband." he continued to explain. "It doesn't have to be incredibly elaborate… If you don't have anything, that's also fine."

The girl was shocked! Shocked! He said "husband!" A man like this? She knew it was awful of her, but she was able to admit to herself that she was surprised. What was more surprising, however, was how pleasant he was being.

"We certainly do!" she declared. "Is there a special occasion?"

"No, not at all. I just saw the shop while driving and came in on a whim. I thought he might like some flowers." Ciel's blush grew a bit darker at that last bit. What was he saying to this stranger? She didn't need to know that!

She didn't mind, however, and was in fact more determined to help him after that. A man who stops and performed romantic gestures like this without provocation was rare. Ciel completely embodied the "bad boy with a heart of gold" archetype in the girl's eyes, and she wasn't about to discourage that. Thus, she led him to their selection of ready-made bouquets and helped him pick out just the right one. It wasn't terribly expensive, which made the bluenette question its quality somewhat, but it was flowers and they were pretty. Besides, he also knew that his spouse would shame him if he went out for a drive and came back with over a hundred quid worth of flowers.

The Watchdog had a smile on his face as he walked out of the shop, seeming rather pleased with himself, but then, it suddenly fell as he noticed a major flaw in his plan. He did not consider the fact that he had rode into town on a motorcycle. Obviously, he should have. Any sensible person would have, but the poor bluenette was a bit lacking in that department lately, and could not see through his amourous gaze enough in order to look that far ahead. This impulsivity was becoming tedious, but more pressingly, he needed a plan.

Not yet ready to give up on his desire to woo his spouse with the gift in his hands, he stared at his motorcycle, as if it would somehow help him figure out what action he needed to take next. He furrowed his brow and scowled at it, trying to make things work for a while, but then, his luck changed, whether for better or for worse when a small, Toyota pickup truck pulled up next to him.

"Sir Phantomhive?" a voice called, capturing his attention. He wanted to correct them on his title, but knew the truck and knew the owner, and also had to keep his lies straight.

"Hello, Missus Winthrop." he said. "How are you today?"

Although Ciel did not frequent the town, he did know a few people there. After all, some of them had homes on property that was rented from him, as in the case of Missus Anne Winthrop. She was a woman in her mid-to-late forties- Ciel couldn't tell which- who always wore clothes fit for working in and hand her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She rented the land that her farm sat on, just a little ways up the road from the Phantomhive estate, so of course Ciel knew who she was.

"I'm just fine, but your day seems like it could be going better."

"I… I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to get these home..." he confessed, pointing to the flowers in his hands with a flicker of his gaze.

"Is that bike yours?" the sleepy-eyed woman questioned with a smile. "That seems like it could be a problem! Tell you what: I can take them up to your house on my way back from town. I'm just about done with everything, anyway."

"I can't ask you to do that." Ciel replied with a dignified look on his face. He didn't want to say that it was because they didn't know each other well, but it was because they didn't know each other well. The woman, however, watched him for a moment before nodding.

"Who said you'd be doing it for free?" she asked, coming up with a solution. "I need to load some bags of feed into the back of the truck from the store over there. If you help me with that, I'll help you with this."

The man looked at her for a moment, tempted, but unsure. He didn't want to accept the charity of someone that he did not know well, especially when he was already in a position of authority over them. Ciel wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what she was doing. She was trying to keep his ego in tact by pretending not to offer her help for free. In reality, both of them knew that had it not been for his pride, she really would have helped in in exchange for nothing. Despite his progress, it was still extremely difficult for Ciel to accept help like this. Strangers being kind to him and wanting to help him for no reason other than the fact that they are good people was still, after all of this time, frightening. Yet, at the same time…_ he really wanted to get those flowers home._

"That's an awfully scary face you're making..." the woman noted, making the bluenette acutely aware of his own face.

"Sorry..." he bashfully replied. "If it's alright with you, I'll help..."

"Good to hear." Missus Winthrop answered. "Hand those here and follow me to the store."

Hesitantly, the man did as he was told and tried not to make a mean face in the process. He put his helmet back on, only to take it off again shortly after he arrived at the general store. Honestly, he wasn't really sure what to expect, but found himself surprised when the woman actually wanted him to go inside with her. Somehow, he thought that he would just be picking things up and moving them outside very quickly. Even worse, she was going to leave the flowers in the truck! Unattended! True, it wasn't as though anyone was going to steal them, surely. After all, who would go out of their way to steal flowers? More importantly, though, he was worried that if it got too warm in the truck, they might wilt, which would defeat the entire purpose of this who venture! And another thing-!

Oh, he was inside the store already…

Our lovestruck hero absent-mindedly followed the woman around like a lost puppy as he hadn't the foggiest idea as to how to navigate a place like this. It was a completely separate world from his. This was a place for farmers- human farmers- farmers who weren't related to nobility. Missus Winthrop was at least wealthy, Ciel knew. She had horses and her rent wasn't cheap, but she seemed perfectly at home, here.

"I need about five of these." she said, grunting as she picked up a feed bag from a huge stack of them in the store. "Think you can handle it?"

"Understood." Ciel replied, bending over to do the same. He picked up one and slumped it over his shoulder before picking up another one and stacking it on top of the first. Then, he held another one tucked up under his free arm before considering how he was going to balance a fourth bag as the woman stared on in astonishment.

"You don't have to carry them all at once!" she said.

"Huh? Isn't it faster this way?"

"They're heavy! Don't hurt yourself!"

"I'm fine. This is nothing." There was a bit of confusion on his face as he said this, only now realising that he can't actually remember what a normal amount of weight for humans to be able to carry is. Suddenly, he understood Sebastian a lot better.

"I still need to tell them how much we're taking, so you might be standing there like that for a while..."

"Really, it's fine..."

Soon, the woman had told the store owner how much she needed and Ciel realised that this was not all there was going to be. She had many animals at her farm, and needed a few more things as a result. Still, he was only bothered because that meant that the flowers would be in the truck much longer than he thought they would be, and after being scolded for setting the bags down too hard once, he knew that this was going to take a while. In addition, he had no idea that feed bags could explode until the woman told him, so on the bright side, he was learning, at least.

"So this girl..." Missus Winthrop began, leaning against the truck as she stopped to catch her breath. "She must be really something if you're willing to do all of this just to give her flowers."

"He's a man, actually. My husband."

"Oh! Sorry to assume."

"It's alright. People never guess by looking at me for some reason." the eyepatch wearing motorcyclist replied as he set down the tenth massive bag in the back of the truck without breaking a sweat. "He is great, though."

"What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. I just passed by the shop and bought them for him without really thinking about it. I just thought he might like them, I suppose."

Ordinarily, he wouldn't be working this hard for something so small, but somehow, the objective made him feel better. He was still able to focus on his spouse while not being in contact with him. It was stupid, but he already knew that. It was just important to him that Jim got those flowers. Above everything else, Ciel really wanted to see his eyes light up and him smiling. That was worth it to him. His brow furrowed again when he heard the woman snort.

"Sorry. You're an odd one, aren't you? No offense, of course. Don't raise my rent."

"Don't tempt me."

"I mean it in a good way!" the woman grinned. "You're a good guy! Quiet, but good. It's very romantic of you."

Ciel certainly hoped so. If it wasn't, then what was the point? The bluenette loaded the rest of the bags, mostly by himself, and the two were on their way. As promised, when they came to the Phantomhive estate, Missus Winthrop followed Ciel's bike up the driveway and handed the flowers back to him. Luckily, they were still in good condition by some bizarre miracle. With that, she waved "goodbye" and set off on her merry way. Eagerly, the bluenette set off as well, going inside the mansion and traveling up the stairs. He forgot to pay attention to his face again, but this time, he was smiling. Knocking on the door to the office, he announced his presence before heading inside.

"There you are!" the blonde immediately let out. "I was just wondering if I should call you!"

"I was a bit occupied. For you..." Ciel grinned as he presented the spoils of his labour to his beloved, only to grin wider as he got exactly the response he hoped for. Jim's eyes lit up, his cheeks flushed, and he smiled.

"For real?" Jim laughed. It was a bright, airy laugh that sounded like music to Ciel's ears. "You go out to test being away from me and you bring me back flowers?"

"I think it made it easier, actually. I was still able to think about you. When I saw the flower shop, I just couldn't resist."

"You're absolutely ridiculous." answered the baronet, walking around his desk while cradling the bouquet. He placed a hand on his husband's shoulder and quickly kissed his lips.

"I can't help it. Love tends to do that to people." Keeping his eyes closed, Ciel leaned back in to kiss Jim's cheek. "I had to load feedbags for these flowers, so I'm glad you like them."

_"__Huh?!"_

* * *

**A/N: This shit is dangerous, y'all... Ciel's dumbassery is reaching threatening levels...**

**Let me know what you think of this storyline, because I've been sort of sitting on it for a while... Initially, it was truth serum, but I kind of felt like that was too mean! Somehow, it's okay as long as Ciel is happy about it, I guess lakoighaoweihg**

**That doesn't make it okay. Don't play with love potions, kids...**

**I don't want to do anything super plot-heavy, though... I mean, I'll do the plot stuff, but we're all about that mushy idiot content at the moment. Tell me what sort of mushy idiot content you crave and I'll see what I can do. Obviously, I have stuff planned, but y'know... the more the merrier, amirite? **

**MORE buffoonery! **

**Get you a man who will load heavy objects just to get u flowers because you deserve it. **

**Love yourself.**

**Buy a motorcycle.**

**Why is Ciel wearing so much leather this series? Like? That's actually kind of weird? We support these daring fashion choices.**

**Like how we support Kris ripping off his shirt and yelling at people, apparently?**

**Live your best life. Follow your dreams.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	5. The Universe Must Be Fucking With Us

With a snort and a furrowed brow, a particular, peculiar woman scrutinised her handiwork. It was difficult, but she was able to make sure that the entire barracks was void of dust all by herself. She wouldn't have to, if she wasn't so goddamn stubborn, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

Claire Whelan was a peculiar woman in a peculiar situation. At the moment, she lived in the barracks at one of the HELLSING training bases, despite having completed her training a while ago. She and the other faoladh werewolves that she commanded were forced to undergo typical combat training if they wanted to work for HELLSING. Many of them did, while a few simply slipped away and lived peaceful lives elsewhere. Claire couldn't do that, though. In hear heart, she truly believed that a woman's place was in the fight.

She didn't have a place, though. That was her problem. Proper living arrangements were being built for her and her people near the regular company housing that was availible to all soldiers, only the faoladh had a special arrangment, as the had some peculiar needs. They needed ample place to store food, higher ceilings, and a sound-proof space to transform freely during the full moon. Naturally, being the leader of the faoladh, Claire insisted that her underlings be given a place to stay before her, as it was her duty to make sure that they were looked after. It did come at a cost, however. Unfortunately, while the building was just about complete, the adviser that the private military company had employed, Logan Kendrick, had gotten a little too involved and injured himself while taking a more hands-on approach to the project. Unfortunately, the workers were not allowed to continue building without him, so until he healed, the space that was supposed to be her apartment remained unfinished. That is why she continued to live where she had started, even after all of this time.

"You don't need to keep doing this, you know…" sighed her own commanding officer, although his attempt at trying to convince her was half-hearted. Corporal Oliver Midford was a pretty man. He had golden blond curls and peaceful, green eyes. After losing his arm to the Whelan in combat, he gave up on having his boots on the ground and took up training new recruits. He could be incredibly fearsome when he was working- must be those Phantomhive genes- but now that training was over, his demeanor seemed to have completely changed. No- not completely, per se, but it was certainly different. He spoke so casually now, and no matter what Claire did, she simply couldn't get used to it.

"Getting out of routine and being idle is out of the question." she dutifully insisted. "I'm not going to allow my living space to be a pigsty just because my troops aren't looking! There is no way that I can ever command their respect if I can't even respect myself!"

"So serious, as usual… I know I gave you hell, but it's over, you know? It's okay to relax..."

"No. It isn't. I can't be sitting around, twiddling my thumbs. You won't give me anything to do, so what choice do I have?"

"Fine, then. Give me fifty push-ups." instructed the Midford, although his tone was more playful, than anything. Still, without hesitation, the faoladh did as she was told and began doing push-ups with ease. She did not talk back or complain about the easiness. She just did it.

Pausing, the man watched her for a while before finally saying what it was that he actually wanted to. "Another platoon will be coming in, soon." he informed. "Probably before your place will be done… Are you sure that you have nowhere else to stay."

With that, Claire faltered, hesitating and holding her position still. Just as quickly, however, she carried on. "No." she said. "I don't."

"You have a brother, don't you? Can't you stay with him?"

"Absolutely not."

"Don't get along?"

"No, it's not that." the woman answered, her voice a bit laboured from her movements. "He lives in Pyestock, so it's too far. I'm not going to be a hindrance to him, either."

"But it's just fine to be a hindrance to the base, here?" the man questioned, forcing the werewolf to furrow her brow and bite her tongue. She didn't answer right away, but when she did, what excuse could she offer?

"No." she said. "It's not like that… At least, not on purpose..." Finishing her push-ups, she lifted herself up and sat on her legs in the floor. "My brother has had a very difficult life. He always had pressure on him. Even I didn't understand or see just how much it was hurting him or how many lies he had to tell. I didn't even really understand after I found out about it."

Oliver raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. It was uncommon for Claire to talk so openly about things, so he wasn't going to ruin the moment by opening his big mouth. Perhaps she was talking because she was lonely? That's how her voice sounded to the Midford, at least.

"When I went to visit him a while ago, he was like a completely different person. He used to be so serious... Kind, but serious- stoic. When I saw him and I saw how happy he is, living with his husband, raising rabbits while living in a small cabin together, I was completely floored. It was like I didn't even know him. Now, I sort of wonder if that might be true… I always thought that he was destined for nobility and the way that he carried himself was proof of that, but now I know that that was just a mask he had to wear. He's happy, now. I can't intrude on that. There's no way I can barge in there and ruin everything by bringing up the faoladh and war..."

"I see… Well, if that's the case, then there's a spare room at my house." Oliver stated rather bluntly. The vacant expression on the woman's face was priceless.

"Huh?" was all she could let out, unsure if she heard that correctly.

"Like I said, I have a spare room." the Midford reiterated. "Granted, I do live with my family, but the mansion definitely has guest rooms you can stay in. Don't worry, I won't charge you rent or anything."

"Wait… Wait… What? I'm sorry… I'm confused..." Taking a deep breath, Claire rubbed her forehead. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you have nowhere to go and I need you out of the barracks so I can keep doing my job?"

"Right, right, but it still seems a little..."

"'A little..?'" Oliver echoed back.

_"__Dangerous."_

"Huh?!"

Indeed, during the past few months, the Midford had rigorously trained the faoladh in how to be an effective HELLSING agent. Naturally, he used some pointers from his distant cousin, Ciel, but still, he was pretty brutal himself, despite his doe-eyes and kind face. He was especially harsh to Claire, who often saw him smiling strangely at her like he was enjoying her suffering. Combined with the fact that she only now realised just how much she did not know about when it came to combat, it was rather frightening. Moreover, the two of them knew something that no one else in their platoon seemed to.

"Isn't it an unwise idea to invite the person who cut off your arm into your home?" questioned the Whelan. "I can't imagine your family will be very thrilled about that."

"True, I don't think they will, but so far, it's the only option you've got." the Midford answered.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"You… About your..."

"My arm?"

"Yes..."

"I mean, I was pretty mad about it for a while." Oliver stated, raising his arm and bending his elbow to wave what remained of the appendage. "Okay, I was really mad, but now? I can't really bring myself to feel that way anymore. I know it was nothing personal and even though I can't do a lot of things anymore, I'm still able to do almost everything. It's not really your fault."

"I cut off your arm. Of course it's my fault."

"That's just what happens in war. We just happened to be on opposing sides at the time and you just happened to be stronger than me. That's how it is. It's never personal, it's just you doing what you can to support your own people." The man paused to look at her, noticing that she still wasn't looking up at him, but also that her face was still troubled.

"There's people like us all over HELLSING." he continued. "Have you noticed, yet? A lot of staff are mercenaries from private companies that HELLSING has bought out, and there are also a lot of soldiers from overseas, too. A lot of them have wound up on opposite sides of the same conflict at one time or another, but since everyone is on the same team now, it's not worth dwelling on who did what and when and why. You cut off my arm. So what? When you switched sides, you lost an eye. It's just what happens when you fight."

Finally, the woman looked up at him, surprising him with a somewhat neutral expression. Ordinarily, her brows were furrowed and her eyes were focused with laser-like precision, but her features were softened like an ordinary person's. He felt sort of bad that that surprised him, but it surprised him, regardless.

"I still don't feel comfortable about it, but I am impressed that you're able to see things like that." she stated. It was a compliment, which was rare coming from her. "You have a point."

"Thank you. So, are you going to take the offer?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have a choice, since the only other option is camping in the supply shed until I get caught."

"Wait, were you seriously going to try that?"

"If you hadn't offered, yes."

"You're a really bizarre person, you know that?" Oliver questioned while arching an eyebrow.

"Perhaps, but in all fairness, so are you, Sir."

"Oliver." the Midford insisted. "You've graduated and are a commanding officer as well. You're not my subordinate anymore, so you can call me 'Oliver.'"

"I refuse."

"What? Why?"

"You have a rank for a reason. Until you change ranks, you're 'Corperal Midford' and need to be addressed properly." Claire replied.

"Fine, fine… Whatever you say..."

With that, arrangements were made and that was how the dinner table at the Midford estate became so tense that evening. Everyone sat tat the dinnertable- the marquis and marchioness Midford, Geraldine, Oliver, and finally, Claire, all sat in complete silence as they tried to not let the atmosphere suffocate them. The only sound that could be heard was the occasional clinking of silverware hitting plates.

The only one who didn't mind was Claire, herself. She anticipated this. To her, it would be strange if they welcomed her with open arms, so she was fine with this turn of events. Besides, it was only temporary. After her apartment was complete, she could move away and never have to see anyone from this family ever again.

It was odd, though. Ordinarily, the Marquis, also referred to by his round table title as "Sir" Midford, was usually inviting to even the most unwanted of guests. The poor woman had nowhere else to go, after all, and seemed courteous enough. She ate her meal with aristocratic refinery and made herself as scarce as possible out of consideration for the family's feelings. There was more on Rupert Midford's mind, however. This was just additional stress.

"I got a call from Lizzie today." he finally said. "Scary stuff… She said that Ciel has been drugged with a potion during the food festival in Gehenna."

"Are demons even affected by potions?" Oliver questioned.

"That's what I asked. She said that they're weak to magic." Rupert replied. "Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it was a love potion and it's just made him a little more focused on his husband than usual."

"Where at the food festival?" piped up Geraldine, still not looking up from her plate.

"She said it was at some place called 'The Black Cauldron.' They serve tea… or was it coffee?"

Geraldine stiffened at that. She had to clear her throat before she choked on her food. Then, in an instant, her face shifted back again, looking bored, only something was a bit "off." Her discomfort was noticed by Claire, who said nothing. It wasn't any of her business and she knew where she stood in the family, so she wasn't going to pry. Soon, however, Geraldine could no longer bear her discomfort and began to stand, pushing away her plate in the process.

"I don't really feel like eating." she said. "I'm going to my room."

No one questioned her. With everything that was going on, they too, felt like leaving, but they remained behind as the young woman ventured back to her own room. Upon closing the door behind her, she locked it and leaned against it, pressing her back and the back of her head against it's wooden surface with a sigh.

Geraldine's room was unremarkable. It was a room that was slowly making the transition from that of a teenage girl to an adult woman, but it was slow. She still had her books and her CDs. She had her strange record and CD player hybrid parked underneath a poster for some Japanese movie that her dad couldn't pronounce the name of- "Moe-noe-noe-key" or something or other. She had her jackets hung up and some of her clothes on the floor. There was her fencing equipment in a neat bag that was easily accessible to her by the door and a pair of skis propped up in a corner on the far side of the room that she's needed to do something with since her family's last ski trip more than a year ago. There wasn't a trace of any of the awards she's won, however. Her medals and trophies were all in the display cabinet in the green room with every single other that has been one by a Midford for ages.

Then, when she mustered up the will, she walked over to her bed before collapsing on top of it, hugging a pillow close underneath her while swinging her dangling legs over the side. She felt terrible, but she felt good all at once. She felt hot, too, like her face was burning. From the redness that stained her cheeks, this was unsurprising. Her heart was beating fast and she was filled with dread for what this could be. She had drunk the tea from The Black Cauldron, so surely, that was why she had been feeling this way as of late and why she couldn't stop thinking about her best friend.

Samantha was as much of a genius academically as Geraldine was at fencing. Her eyes were pretty and blue, her hair was soft, and she smelled good. Somehow, in the light of the festival, she looked amazing and Geraldine felt compelled to hold her hand. All she could muster was wrapping her pinky around the other woman's, however, before making a shameful retreat. Geraldine felt tense after that and she knew that Samantha did as well. Stupid. _Stupid! _They haven't spoken since they both returned home.

But now Geraldine understood why. It was a love potion! That made sense. That revelation made Geraldine feel uneasy, but also made her feel a bit more calm. She felt reluctant to tell anyone about it, but knew that she would have to, eventually. She would have to endure the shame of having such thoughts and feelings directed toward her best friend, but it wasn't her fault! It was simply the result of a mistake.

After a while of her stewing in her own thoughts, a gentle knock came at the door. She didn't get up to answer it right away and instead opted to force the person on the other side to knock a few more times before forcing herself out of bed. She paused at her mirror to check her appearance before opening the door, wearing her best disinterested expression possible.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Ger-bear." Rupert greeted with a smile and his second-born son in tow. "Are you feeling okay?"

She hesitated for a moment, which made her father immediately suspicious, given her blunt and straightforward nature. His feelings were furthered when she gave a round-about answer. "Not really."

"Well, I hope you feel better soon. We know that you've never really gotten along with girls, but Miss Whelan's stay here is only temporary. Right, Oliver?" The man turned to look at his son and elbowed him.

"U-uh… right..." the girl's brother sheepishly stated. "Sorry. She literally had nowhere to go and since she was under my command for so long, I couldn't just let her go homeless..."

"That's not- Okay, that's part of it…" Geraldine stated, letting out an uncomfortable sigh. It was amazing how much she acted like Ciel sometimes. "I know there was no choice, but it's still weird to be in the same house as the person who cut off my brother's arm!"

"I know it's upsetting to be flipped off with a phantom limb, but it's not the worst thing in the world." Oliver joked, but it was not well-received.

"You're being way too calm about this!" Geraldine raised her voice slightly, causing the two mens' eyes to widen. Clearly, she was under a lot of stress.

"Sorry..." was all her brother could say.

"And stop saying 'sorry!'"

"Is something else wrong?" questioned Rupert, hoping to make some progress. "Are you worried about Ciel? I know you're fond of him, but he's going to be fine..."

"It's not- I know he's fine."

"Then what is it, Ger-bear?"

"I…" Dread filled the two mens' hearts as they saw Geraldine's face flush red. "I… Uhm… I drank tea from The Black Cauldron..." she finally said.

"_What?!" _The ordinarily cheerful Rupert's demeanor changed immediately. He seemed bigger than he actually was, like a bear standing upright or a lunging lion as he placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders. His son joined him, puffing himself up like he was going to hunt down a man. "Do you feel different?! Do you feel strange?! Who is it?! Who are you infatuated with?!"

Geraldine endured the light shaking she received, allowing it to shake out some of the tension for her. When she was finally able to speak, she was clear. This wasn't her fault and her father clearly would have no qualms about confirming it or taking care of her, so it would only be to her detriment if she didn't provide as much information as possible.

"It's Sam..." she answered plainly, blinking as she was met with silence. Then, after a few beats, the two men deflated from their posturing and smiled.

"Oh, that's fine, then." Rupert casually replied as his son nodded in agreement behind him.

"How is that fine?!" gawked Geraldine in a rare moment of allowing herself appear flustered in front of people.

"Samantha is a smart girl. I like her." the Marquis answered her. "I always thought that you would be lovely together. She would make an excellent daughter-in-law."

"So are we just going to ignore the issue, here?!"

"Oh, no. We'll get you checked out tomorrow, but you should still think about it."

"I _am_ thinking about it! That's the problem!"

"Think about it more, then."

Somewhere in Gehenna, Samantha felt a chill run down her spine. She stood up from her desk and closed the window, nodding as she felt better without the draft. Things were peaceful in the Westley household, although she found it difficult to work, at times. Her mind kept wandering, although she insisted to herself that she had only imagined Geraldine's behaviour during the festival. That had to be it. She couldn't imagine the Midford woman being interested in anyone in that way, really, but especially not her! Still, otherwise, everything was perfectly fine and dandy.

She left her room in order to get something to drink from the kitchen, only to pass by her brother Daniel's door. It sounded like he was talking to someone, so she assumed that he was talking to his boyfriend on the phone. It was rare, but sometimes, Samantha would babysit Mister Ravenscroft's daughter while he and her brother went out. She didn't feel qualified, really, but her brother was really happy, so it was hard to turn down. She liked Mister Ravenscroft, or "Ted," as he told her to call him. The man was somewhat plain, but he was always friendly and pleasant to be around. Samantha could tell that he really liked her brother and that her brother really liked him. She had no complaints about it and was just glad that Daniel was back out there and had a proper relationship.

But Daniel was not talking on the phone with Theodore Ravenscroft, however. Oh, no, he was on the phone with someone else. Indeed, he was incredibly happy with Theodore and had enjoyed the past couple of months with him. They went out rather frequently and were moving at a steady pace. They encouraged each others' hobbies and even shared a few. Daniel even got along with Theodore's daughter, Ruby, and would sometimes play his guitar and sing silly songs with her. He'd play and carry on while looking after her. Needless to say, things between Daniel and Theodore were getting rather serious.

He needed to call in for help. Unfortunately, he didn't have that many options, but he called his first choice before going through the rest. He anxiously sat on his bed while listening to the phone ring for a while, but soon, Jim picked up and Daniel was forced to ask him for advice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Alois, it's me… Daniel…" the Westley felt awkward, as he hadn't talked to his friends from school in a while, despite wanting to and always telling himself that he would. "Sorry to call you so late."

"You're fine! What's up? How are things? It feels like it's been forever, mate!" It relieved the Westley to hear Sir Phantomhive being so cheerful. He wasn't sure why, but he was worried that he wouldn't be.

"Nothing much. What about you?"

"Typical supernatural nonsense. This time, it's a love potion case."

"Ah, I heard about that from Sam." Daniel nodded before quickly offering up an explanation. "Chain of communication. You told Kris, who told Logan, who told Sam, who told me."

"Sounds about right." Jim replied. "Can you keep it on the down low for a while, though? HELLSING is going to release an official statement in the next couple days."

"Are you controlling the flow of information again?"

"Maybe~?"

The Westley laughed at his friend's nefariousness, glad to see that nothing had changed. Although, he did get to talk to Jim after the funeral for the Trancy Children, but it felt like he didn't get to talk much, given the situation. He felt bad, calling Jim up for advice, worried that he came across as the kind of so-called "friend" that only calls when they want something. Daniel knew that he needed to resolve to reconnecting with his old classmates in the very near future. His life was back on track and he was in an excellent place emotionally, so why not? All he had to do was commit to the idea.

"So… Uh… You must be pretty busy with all of that, then..." he said.

"A bit. Ciel's pretty needy at the moment." Jim replied, gently poking his husband's cheek to force him away from listening in. He shooed him off, causing the Watchdog to grumble a bit before turning his attention back to Daniel. "I can talk, though. What's up."

"Uh, well… I really wanted some advice, but I don't really have a good way to segue into that."

"That seems like a good enough segue right there. What's happenin', Westley? Shoot."

"I… Well… Things are getting a little more serious with Ted, and… Uh… I don't have anybody else I can really ask about… Y'know..."

"Oh! You're planning on doing it?" the menace questioned with a smile, holding out a hand to press against Ciel's chest as the Earl quickly rushed back over to see what was going on.

"Ugh! I don't know what I'm doing!" Daniel lamented, standing up from his bed as he paced around the room in his socks. "I don't- Ugh, okay..." The brunet paused, letting out a sigh before starting up again. "You can't tell anybody I asked you this, okay?"

"Impossible, Dan. I'm married. My husband always finds out. You know him, though. He won't care and he won't snitch."

"You can't tell him, either!"

"Why not? He's got experience too, you know..."

"Because! It's embarrassing!" Once more, Mister Westley sighed, albeit a bit more aggressively, this time. Giving up, he asked his question at a much softer volume. "I… Uh… How do you… You know… Bottom?" Quickly, he shook his head and asked again. "Wait- I mean! First, how do you know who does what?"

"Who tops and bottoms? Easy, you ask." chuckled the menace, trying his best not to sound condescending. "A lot of people assume that it's best to do everything in the heat of the moment, but no, it's easier to just ask what the other person likes to do and negotiate on it. Some people like one more than the other, and some people just get into moods, y'know? Even Ciel likes to be on bottom sometimes. It's no big deal."

The Watchdog's face turned red at that, mirroring what Daniel's was doing on the other end of the line. Gently, Jim nudged him away and started walking, making his way out of the front room to the master suite and into his bedroom, turning on the light and locking the door behind him so that he could talk freely. Despite this, he knew that in his current state, his husband would still want to listen at the door, so the menace simply sat down in a chair and got comfortable.

"I think a lot of people have weird assumptions about that stuff." he continued. "Liking to bottom doesn't make you any less manly or anything. It just means that you like bottoming."

"Well, I, uh… I don't actually know if I like it more, since I haven't tried it the other way… I just- I dunno..."

"Want him all over you?"

"Yeah..." sheepishly confessed Mister Westley. "I just don't really know about it… I mean, I'm kinda… Well, fat, so I'm not really sure if I'm anything he'd want to… 'be all over.'"

"Again, communication can work wonders." the Phantomhive suggested. "Whenever you have a problem in your relationship, you need to talk about it with him. It's one of the hardest things to learn and get comfortable with, but once you're there, things get a lot easier and you start thinking about stuff like that a lot less. If he's thinking about having sex with you, then he wants you. Maybe he likes a little pudge, who knows? You're not at all a bad looking bloke, Dan."

"Okay, okay, but still… Do I need to like, shave or anything? What about underwear?"

"The kind of pants you were are personal preference, but I'd pick out some that don't have any holes or skidmarks or anything."

"Fuck off!"

Jim ignored his friend's outbursts and kept talking. "You can figure out if he likes a certain style on you later on, but for now, just work with what you have. As for shaving, I'd recommend against it, but I like a bit of hair, so again, you can figure that out with him, later."

"Wait, hang on, is Ciel's hair…"

"Kinda blue, yeah." the menace replied. "Boxer briefs also show off his goods a bit more, so I like those. Next question."

"Should I wear boxer briefs?"

"Only if they make you feel cute. Next."

Pausing, Daniel tried to think of something else to ask, fighting against the mental image of the evil Earl in his drawers. "So… back to bottoming..." Bad idea. The mental image was worse. Keep moving, Dan, keep moving! "What do you… y'know, do?"

"Like, with your hands, or just in general?"

"In general, I guess."

Jim answered bluntly. "Fondle your boo, give clear communication, and enjoy the ride."

"What the fuck, Alois?!"

"You asked! What? Did you think I was gonna tell you to lie back and think of England? No! You think about your man and how he's giving it to you! Communicate, fool! Appreciate!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, I hate you!" Daniel lamented, blushing so intensely that sweat was starting to appear on his forehead. It felt like his room became ten degrees hotter. "What do you mean, 'appreciate'?! Do I even wanna know?!"

"Listen, if there's ever a time to check out the goods and give 'em a little squeeze, that is it!"

"I hate this! This conversation is all I'm gonna think about!"

"Then maybe you should start small?" the menace suggested, changing gears rather abruptly as his eyes glanced over at the door. He could sense that his husband was on the other side. Admittedly, he was impressed that he lasted this long without succumbing to his curiosity. "Maybe you shouldn't go all in right out of the gate. Maybe fool around instead?"

"Wait, you mean like… handjobs?"

"Sure. Maybe mess around a little with your trousers still on. I dunno. Maybe you should just take it a little slow until you're more comfortable with the idea?"

"I… You're probably right…" Daniel sighed. "I just… It feels kind of- kind of like something a teenager would do? I mean, I'm a grown-ass man. I should be doing it like a grown-ass man!"

"That's stupid." Jim bluntly retorted. "No offense, but that's stupid. Going at your own pace isn't less 'grown up' or whatever. The sex is better you're not stressing out about it. Getting more comfortable with the idea before jumping right on in is a perfectly sensible thing to do and it's not like you just stop liking handjobs when you grow up. Sometimes, it's all you want or need."

"It isn't real sex, though? Isn't it what you do when you can't have actual sex? I mean, wouldn't it be better to just do it?"

"What kind of dumbass shit is that? Sorry, but that's some 'I'm saving myself for marriage but this doesn't count' kind of teenager crap. It's sexual. It's still intimate and it still feels good. There are going to be times when you want to get off, but neither of you want it in you and that's the tea."

"I- uh- hmm..." What does one say to that? Daniel hadn't the foggiest idea. He felt stupid, but Jim's tone didn't sound like he was calling him that, despite the words he was using. "I guess I should try it that way, first..."

"That's the spirit!"

Somehow, the conversation devolved from there, becoming far more graphic as the questions and answers became more detailed. There were many things, however, that Jim could not answer, being a demon, so Daniel was forced to retreat to the internet to sift through advice that may or may not be rather questionable. Of course, if he became desperate, he could ask his old therapist, but he had had his last appointment with Falchion Grey a while ago. Still, advice was one of the many jobs that the incubus carried out at his practise, so it was worth a shot. They finished up their call with an agreement to meet up later in the week to socialise before finally hanging up.

With the call ended and done, Jim sat there, alone in his room. He basked in his solitude for a moment before looking back toward the door. Then, with herculian strength, he got up out of his seat and slowly meandered toward the exit. Once there, he used all of his energy to unlock and swing the door open with lightning speed, catching the man waiting on the other side by surprise. Ciel stared at him with his eye wide before abruptly standing up straight as if he weren't just listening in.

"What are you doing, you ridiculous man?" Jim questioned. His tone was scolding, yet obviously joking as he strained not to laugh at his beau's antics.

"Nothing..." was all the Watchdog could say, as he didn't have an actual explanation and he knew it. He wasn't convincing and he didn't try to be.

"Ciel, if you're going to keep up this jealousy, then you and I are going to need to have a little chat..."

"I'm not jealous of Daniel. I just wanted to know what you talk about when I'm not around." Ciel stated. "I didn't know you talked like that amoung friends."

"Yeah, you do. You know I tell Kris all kinds of stuff."

"But not Daniel."

"In a purely educational capacity." the menace replied. "Relax, I'm not planning on banging Dan."

"I know. Why would I think that?"

"I dunno… You've been pretty weird, lately… I mean, you were listening on my phone conversations… That ain't right."

"I'm… I'm sorry..." sheepishly apologised the bluenette with a flushed face. He very clearly understood the boundaries he was violating in eavesdropping, but knowing him, the blonde was fairly confident that he would do better in the future to be a bit more diligent in keeping his impulses in check.

"Don't worry about it too much. Given recent events, I'm gonna give you a pass, this time." Jim stated, reaching out to lightly pinch his husband's stomach. It didn't hurt; the skin gently slipped through Jim's fingers before he could apply any real pressure, but it was enough to lightly pester the Earl. "You're a bit sensitive, especially when it comes to me talking about romance and naughty stuff." Pausing, he smirked. "What? Were you thinking about me doing that stuff to you?"

"I..." Ciel had a thought to express, but it died before he could begin to do so as his head began to spin. His beau gently kissed his cheek and smiled at the heat he felt there against his lips. "Not- not on purpose..."

"What? You want me to take the lead?" the blonde questioned with a playful tilt of his head. He pinched Ciel's stomach again as the bluenette began to lean against the doorframe. "I thought you were Mister Romance? Aren't you like, consumed by this yearning to woo me and ravish me like some lust-filled brute?"

Quickly, Ciel began to anxiously tap his fingers against the wooden frame. "No, I like seeing you in a more… Assertive way. You're a very masculine man, Jim."

"Oh, yeah?" Jim inquired, tilting his chin up in a haughty fashion before gently taking his lower lip in his teeth in order to draw the bluenette's attention to his mouth. "What about it?"

He allowed the Earl to lean closer. "I _like_ it."

Then, as Ciel was about to kiss him, Jim dodged his beau, ducking his way past and forcing Ciel to catch himself by taking another step forward. They turned back to face one another with the baronet giggling at the earl's expression of flustered confusion. There was a moment where the Watchdog looked downright betrayed, but that only added to his spouse's amusement.

"Maybe later." laughed the menace, reveling in his husband's despair. "It's been hardly anytime at all, and I'm not sure if I can keep up this pace for a whole month. Are you trying to run me ragged?"

"No, I just… I want to- I- Urgh..." Ciel groaned, scrunching his eye shut as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I mean- It's not just about the sex… I really just like being intimate with you in general. Uh… You know… Kissing, hugging… That sort of thing."

"'Fucking,' you forgot 'fucking.'"

"Uh- I-" The bluenette stammered a bit before uttering a defeated sigh. "That, too… I do enjoy that… It isn't a necessity, however. Despite my current state, I'm not some animal that is unable to control myself from attempting to fornicate every time a thought about your attractiveness enters my head. If that were the case, then we would certainly have problems."

"Why? 'Cause you're horny?"

"No, because you're stunning." Ciel rather seriously replied. "I'm finding myself incredibly distracted by you as of late, and not just in a sexual manner. Most of the time, you're simply pleasing to my eye and I want nothing more than to stare at you and take it all in lest I forget some minute detail."

The blonde's wicked grin faltered at that. "Do you… You think about stuff like this normally, right?"

"Of course I do!" The earl struck his chest with his fist once for emphasis. "I'm always catching perfect glances at you where I just want to stare at you! The only difference is now I'm fixated on it to an extent that I cannot ignore, regardless of appropriateness."

"So basically, you just can't leave me alone, can you?"

"Not at all. I want to be around you constantly, although I am aware that this may be rather inconvenient for you, since you still possess a healthy level of attachment, while I appear to be seeing things with rose-tinted goggles. I do have the self awareness to understand that this may be a problem, so I'm alright with slowing down a bit, if you need space."

"God, you're embarrassing..." the blonde said, covering his mouth to conceal his smile as his face turned increasingly more pink. He stood still while his beau approached him, and gave in when the Watchdog gently tried to push his hand so that he would lower it again. "I'm glad, though."

"I love you, Jimmy." Ciel cooed, leaning in close once more to place a kiss against his husband's lips. This time, instead of teasing him, the menace closed his eyes and kissed him back, sighing through his nose and wrapping his arms around his beau's waist at the bluenette softly reached up and cupped the sides of his face. They rocked from side to side as Ciel gently stroked his beloved's cheeks with his thumbs.

"You know..." the menace began once they finally parted, keeping his eyes closed as their noses rubbed together. "I kind of like it when you call me that..."

"Jimmy." repeated the Watchdog with a grin. "I love you, Jimmy."

"Okay, don't get _too_ comfortable with it."

"Alright, _Jimmy-darling._" A chuckle bubbled up from the Watchdog's throat as his spouse uttered a half-hearted groan.

"You're so fucking embarrassing..."

"Do you love me, though?"

"Yeah, I do." admitted the fair-haired Phantomhive. "I love you a whole lot."

With a laugh, the bluenette pressed their lips together again and wrapped his arms around his beau's neck, tangling his hands in flaxen locks, beginning the passage of a few hours. Eventually, the menace found himself alone in his bed as he checked the time. Three in the morning. Not bad, but also not great, seeing as his husband had plans the next day to help Travis. Luckily, demons didn't need to sleep. They had been taking advantage of that fact the past few nights.

Setting his phone back down on the wireless charger that sat on his nightstand, the blonde slumped back down into his pillow, shuddering as he felt the soft fabric of his sheets brush against his skin. Letting out a long sigh, he settled back down, there, closing his eyes and starting to dose off before a faucet in the bathroom was switched off. He blinked his eyes open again and turned his head, watching the door as he continued to lay on his stomach. Jim did his best to wait, but his eyes slowly began to close again and his breathing began to slow down, only to wake himself up again after hearing himself start to snore. Once he was awake, he saw the door to the dressing room open, revealing his spouse's silhouette backlit by the light in the room behind him. Ciel stood there for a moment, watching the menace as he messily finished drying off his hair with his towel. He was as disheveled as the Earl Phantomhive could get once he was done. His eyepatch was off, his hair was all over the place, and most glaringly was the observation that the sleepier of the demons pointed out.

"You're still naked..." Jim noted in a tired voice, prompting the other man to bunch up his towel into a ball and throw it at a clothes hamper in the room behind him. Ciel left the light on and the door to the dressing room open just a crack before making his way into the bedroom.

"There isn't much point in putting on pyjamas, at this point." the bluenette stated.

"No more. Too tired."

Ciel chuckled at his beau's rejection and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets over himself and adjusting what was already covering the menace so that he was covered a bit better. "I can see that." Leaning over his spouse, he kissed the blonde's temple before laying down, himself with a slight grunt. "It's hard work, isn't it?"

"You're a beast…" Regardless of his words, Jim reached over and held onto the bluenette's hand, tangling their fingers together in a firm grip. "How can you do that all the time?"

"Years of training." Ciel jested. "You're good, though. Like always."

"Hmmn..." Jim didn't answer, but the other demon knew what he mean. After a few moments of silence, the blonde gathered enough energy to move and crawled over to his spouse, only to drop down heavily right next to him. Sometimes, it seemed a bit pointless to have a king-sized bed, since the Phantomhives always slept huddled together, but that just meant that they could huddle together in slightly different spots sometimes.

"I love you. 'Night." the menace mumbled before finally getting comfortable enough to drift off without waking up soon afterwards.

"Good night, Jim. I love you, too." Once more, Ciel kissed his beloved's head before getting comfortable, himself, opting to rest his chin on top of it with a small sigh. When he awoke the next morning, he would have to leave that spot, but when the time came, he rather predictably did not want to. The amount of goading it took was phenomenal and he had to be reminded that it was he himself who made it so that he needed to get up that day.

To be fair, he made these plans before he drank a certain love potion, but still, it was an obligation that he needed to fulfill. Even worse, his husband refused to go with him, as he knew that he would only be a distraction from the task at hand. Luckily, however, there were enough hands on deck to get the job done- at least, so long as the Watchdog stays focused. Already, however, things were turning out to be a bit of a mess.

Grouchily, he stood in Travis' backyard with his arms folded, trying his best to listen, but clearly not entirely pleased. Fortunately, Travis was an almost inhumanly patient and understanding man, so he was not ignorant to the fact that Ciel's behaviour was by no means personal or in any way targeted at him. Given the situation, however, he was not at his peak of calm, nor at his standard, so naturally, Mister Sullivan was worried about how all of this was going to turn out.

"Here's what I need you to do;" Travis began to his army of nitwits. The group consisted of Ciel, Kristopherson, and Audrey, as they were the only ones who could make it. A lot needed to be done, but a sincere effort was going to be made. "I need to finish up cooking dinner. Kristopherson, I need you in the house. I need your help picking out what to wear and setting out something for Pat, too. When you're done, you should come back out here to help Ciel and Audrey set up. The gazebo needs to be swept, the table needs to be set, and I need those lights to be put up. Everybody understand what they need to be doing?"

"Will we be getting food, too?" asked Audrey, raising his hand.

"Only if you work and only snacks."

"Yessss..." Mister Baines gloated with a fist-pump. After that quick pep-rally, however, it was time for them to get to work.

The men set off to complete their tasks, with Audrey and Ciel picking up their supplies and heading to the gazebo. They ran into their very first obstacle, however, practically immediately. It wasn't an insignificant one, either, as it meant that the place wasn't being cleaned.

As Audrey swept the floor, he grew increasingly frustrated as time went on that there was still dust and dirt, but what's more, it seemed to be spreading. He paused, reaching up to scratch at his undercut, and looked around to check in with his compatriot in order to formulate a plan of attack, only to realise that Ciel was in fact the source of the problem!

Lord Ciel Phantomhive, Earl of the Phantomhive family, guard dog of England, and decorated military official, was brushing the ground with his broom back and forth like in some sort of cartoon. The bristles were barely brushing against the floor and certainly weren't sweeping, but were in fact kicking up a lot of dust. Baffled at this sight, the only thing that Audrey could do for the longest time was just stare as he tried to figure out what exactly he was witnessing.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he finally gawked, only to earn a grouchy, yet obviously puzzled look from Ciel.

"I'm sweeping?" bluntly replied the Watchdog with an apparent dislike of his friend's tone.

"No, you're not! You're kicking up dust! You're supposed to sweep one way! Into a dust pan!" scolded the reaper. "Where the hell did you learn to clean? Weren't you in the army?"

"I was, but I always made other people do it. Excuse me, for not ever using a broom, before!"

"How?! You're like, a million years old! How can you not ever use a broom?!"

"Either be constructive in your criticism, or be quiet."

Their voices were raised, which alerted not only the neighbourhood of their difficulty, but also Travis, who left his own station briefly in order to investigate. Furrowing his brow, he saw the two arguing for a little bit before Audrey noticed him. Mister Baines slapped Ciel's shoulder in order to make him follow his eyes, only to offer Travis a thumbs up and a smile when the Watchdog looked. Obviously, this didn't inspire a lot of confidence in Mister Sullivan, but as Audrey offered Ciel the dustpan, Travis walked away in order to get back to work, deciding not to intervene quite yet. Once the coast was clear, Audrey addressed the bluenette again, lowering his volume.

"Sorry." he offered. "Listen, you hold the dust pan and I'll sweep, okay?"

"I'm sorry, too… I've been very… touchy, lately." Ciel apologised in return. Crouching down, he did what he was told, trying to avoid inhaling any dust.

"At least you have an excuse. I'm just nervous for Travis. I really hope we can get this done before Patty gets back."

"If we're diligent, we can get it to 'passable,' at the very least."

"But it can't be 'passable!' This sort of thing has to be 'perfect,' y'know?"

"Not necessarily. Look at Jim and I. Our engagement was quite literally the tail end of a disaster, but that's not the part that either of us remember. It's really just that moment of having that degree of love and commitment expressed that matters. At least, that's what Jim said..."

"You don't think so?"

"I... still wish it could have been nicer for him. I gave most of the ideas I was trying to decide between to Travis." Ciel replied. "I'm somewhat jealous… Now that I think about it, I think this idea would have been perfect. It's simple, it's classy, it's sentimental… It's a great engagement."

"Really? Don't most girls want like, a fancy, showy proposal that they can send to their friends and go viral or whatever?" the half-reaper questioned while he continued to sweep.

"You'd think, and that's what we were suspecting, given Patricia's interest in romance novels, but upon further consideration, we reached the consensus that a public proposal would be a horrible idea." As the demon said this, he had a rather proud look on his face, only adding to his friend's confusion.

"Why?"

"Because according to Travis, she's somewhat shy..."

"Her? Patricia? Little Miss I'll-see-you-in-the-bloody-pit-and-break-your-goddamn-face?"

"People are intricate and have multiple layers. There are things that only certain people are allowed to see. That is why we are going to flee as soon as we're done, here."

With excellent timing, they were joined by a third, further adding to the strange array of fashions worn by the bunch. There was Ciel with his eyepatch and collared shirt- luckily, he had the sense not to wear a tie and to take off his jacket. With him was Audrey with his asymetrical leather jacket that he had bought off of some asian fashion website and his fluffed up undercut. The poor man had lost his beloved purple beanie several months ago, so he was forced to actually do something with his hair- well, perhaps not, but he felt like he should. Rounding out the bunch was the rather muscular lycanthrope, Kristopherson, wearing a pink hoodie that was also for whatever reason a crop top. He used to bleach his hair, but had stopped a while ago, allowing it to be his natural brown colour, since he didn't want to be a wolf with a random blonde spot on his head when transformed. It was the only change to his hair, however, as he continued to shave his goatee in that ridiculous pattern of his. Somehow, it was Kristopherson who was baffled by the other two, worriedly pulling out his phone to check the time.

"What are you doing?!" he demanded while marching up to the other two.

"We're sweeping." Ciel and Audrey answered in unison, encouraging the palm of Kristopherson's hand to introduce itself to his forehead.

"Still?! You need to be setting the table by now!" Kristopherson lamented. "And the lights! We need to set up the lights!"

"Ciel has never used a broom before." Mister Baines said, pointing at Ciel while shifting the blame. Lord Phantomhive simply swatted Audrey's leg.

"Okay… Okay, I'll start setting up the table, then. You two need to work faster!" The wolfman turned to walk back toward the house to get the necessary supplies, but paused before turning around. "In fact- In fact, lets split things up. Audrey, you sweep, I'll set, and Ciel will do lights."

"I've never installed lights before, either..." bluntly stated the Phantomhive.

"Fine, fine, fine! You set the table and I'll do the lights!" When the bluenette opened his mouth to speak, Kristopherson interrupted him, pointing a finger directly in the demon's face. "And! If you do a good job, I'll put in a good word with Jim."

_"__I'm on it."_ Ciel immediately replied while standing straight up. His mission was given and his face was determined, while Kristopherson just let it be. He was aware of the situation and knew what Ciel was like now. It was Audrey who was baffled.

With their new positions, things were running smoothly for a while, although Ciel had many questions, as several pieces of silverware were "missing." He had to be gently reminded that this was not a fine dining situation, but set things up rather well in accordance to his memory of place setting fairly well, considering that he was not at all familiar with this kind of work. It was Kristopherson who was struggling the most, despite his previous complaining. Although he had seen his boyfriend do projects like this many times before and felt confident that observation was enough to know how to do this, he got as far as untangling the lights before needing Audrey's help. Luckily, the place was clean and things were still underway.

That is, however, until disaster struck. While Ciel was scrutinising the table, brow furrowed, arms folded, and fist at his chin, Audrey had neglected to read the cautionary "do not use top step" instruction on the small ladder that he was standing on and leaned too far to the right. The ladder tipped over underneath him, sending him to the ground, so he instinctively reached for the very first thing in his reach. Unfortunately, that would be the lights that were currently stapled to the gazebo, so when he went down, a good amount of the lights went down, too. Then, there was silence.

Audrey sat there, on the ground, staring wide-eyed at the mess that he had made while Kristopherson held onto the sides of his head. All they could do was stare at the mess in shock, but that was not the worst part about it. Oh, no. The worst part was when Travis swung open the back door of the house and started walking toward them. Travis was a quiet man. He was calm, always seemed to have some sort of sagely advice, and was difficult to fluster, but when he came out of that house, eyes wide, stopping short of the gazebo in order to just stare at it while pulling his own hair, everything seemed completely out of control.

Then, he took a deep breath. He exhaled and then repeated the process again, regaining his composure. "It's not that bad." he finally said. "There's still time before her class lets out. This is still salvageable."

As if on cue, however, a loud beeping sound came from the direction of the house, capturing everyone's attention. Travis immediately deflated and his face turned white. "No, no, no, no, no..." he mumbled as he began to run. The others looked at each other for a moment before taking off after him, only to lay witness to a strange sight. There was a fire in the kitchen.

Frantically, Travis tried to set the lid on the flaming skillet, but was obviously hesitant, as getting burned would only make things worse. He had to act quickly to suffocate the flames, however, as burning down the house would be the worst case scenario. While he was trying to do that, however, Ciel was behind him, rolling up a sleeve, then, he gently took the lid from Mister Sullivan and stuck it over the flames. He placed it, and held it there, only moving once he lifted the lid and all that came out from underneath it was smoke.

"I'm fireproof." he said, turning around, but no one really registered it. Everyone was staring at Travis, who was staring at what used to be food.

The poor man stood, his shoulders slouched and his mouth open, as for once, he seemed completely at a loss. Slowly, he slumped to the ground, sitting on his legs while the others tried to see if he was alright. He wasn't alright, though. He was devastated.

"This is a disaster..." Travis lamented. "This is a complete and utter disaster… There's no way I can propose like this… This is a nightmare…"

Audrey and Kristopherson wanted to help, but how could they? They didn't have any advice. He was right! The plan was ruined! It was completely ruined! One of them, at least, was not entirely convinced.

"Please, this is hardly a tragedy." the bluenette scoffed, garnering the ire of his compatriots. "This is still perfectly salvageable. The plan needs just a little bit of tweaking, is all. It's hardly anything worth crying about."

"Ciel-!" Audrey hissed through his teeth. "Not now!"

"Respectfully, Audrey, I must disagree." Ciel said, promptly throwing the ruined skillet in the trash. "We still must act quickly if we want this to work. Luckily for you, the plan was relatively simple to begin with, so it will be relatively simple to solve. Just follow my lead and everything will be fine."

"Ciel, look… We know you're high on love juice or whatever, but we're kind of fucked."

"No we're not. I may be a bit more sensitive than usual, but I'm still perfectly coherent." Unfolding his sleeve, Ciel continued to speak. "Kristopherson, open the windows."

"Uh… okay?" the wolfman hesitantly replied, still doing as the Watchdog instructed, much to the irritation of Audrey.

"Hey, you can't be serious..." the reaper gawked.

"I'm perfectly serious." Ciel answered with a smile, buttoning the cuff of his sleeve. "Catastrophe often strikes in these situation as some bizarre sort of cosmic test. If you truly value this future as a married man, Travis, you're going to have to hang in there. The mark of a good husband is not only being a provider and protector to the family, but being able to provide support and being able to fix things when they break, and luckily for you, my friend, I am one hell of a husband..."

* * *

**A/N: All over the place... Honestly, I sometimes wonder if I should go back to the old format and break this stuff up a bit more. This chapter is like, 19 or 20 pages, but I think so much might have happened, that it might be a bit much to take in. Let me know what you all think about that, because I really need to know if I need to improve on it.**

**I'm glad that you all like Ciel being stupid. I love it when he's stupid, but he's not stupid all of the time! His lovey-dovey goofiness is now his strength! He has a plan, y'all!**

**Also important: Geraldine is called "Ger-bear" by her dad and Kris rocks a good crop top... Thank you for coming.**

**Some of you have been asking the characters questions in the comments, and I'm very sorry that I haven't gotten to them! I always wonder if I'm going to wind up answering them in the fic or if it's a question that's better answered by an A/N? I don't know if I want to bring back "Character Shet" from the first fic. I'll still answer any questions you have for me about what's happening or why these people are like that, though! Let me know about your thoughts on character shet, too.**

**Like, Kinja145 asked why Dafydd STILL hits on Jim after all of this time despite him saying "no" and despite him being married, and I don't really think Dafydd has an answer to that. Not an honest one, at least.**

**The real answer to that is just because he can? Jim is attractive to Dafydd, and Dafydd's kind of arrogant. Not only that, he's also a bit sore from Cameron leaving him for another man. I think in his head, he's somehow more manly or otherwise "better" in some way if he gets this really hot, really powerful, demon who's married to this other really powerful demon. There is one-upmanship going on, but I also think that demons are kind of exotic to Dafydd, so it might be a little bit fetish-y. Also, Jim and his husband are not at all impressed by Dafydd and Dafydd's magic, so he really feels the need to prove himself to them. It's kind of like how Wink bruises his ego by not being impressed by him, but Wink is older, so he's not into her. He also didn't pick Ciel because Ciel is intimidating-looking. I think Dafydd chose Jim because at the time they met, Jim was this effeminate, short-shorts wearing guy who was kinda insecure, and was also (and still is) very pretty. He picked what he THOUGHT was the "easier" target out of the two of them, but didn't count on Jim not being easy to manipulate and having standards. Now he NEEDS to prove himself and undo his rejection for the sake of his ego. He also now has the added pressure of needing to show Cameron he can find someone who's like, WAY better than him.**

**It's complicated, but also stupid.**

**At least, that's the best I can explain it, for now... I hope that makes sense!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	6. Dumb But Cute

The situation was dire. The lights had fallen, the food had caught fire, the man in charge was in shambles and the hurdles just seemed to high, but all was not lost and there was no need to despair for there was rather strange man waiting on standby. They had a secret weapon, you see, most fortunately, a man with strange blue hair. This could be salvaged, definitely; yes, this could be repaired. Lord Ciel, their friend, and hero of the day had weathered many disasters before and thinking quickly was his forte. He possessed absolute confidence in his powers, but knew they needed to act quickly as they had only a few hours to remedy the catastrophe that was already underway, and he civilly offered courtesy but not option to disobey.

The Phantomhive was somewhat unimpressed with Travis' resolve. Although, he was used to actual disasters and life or death situation, so perhaps his point of reference was skewed. Still, although he would not admit it, Ciel knew that he would probably feel similarly in Travis' shoes, despite his own proposal going far "worse" by comparison. His friends were shocked that he could remain so calm, but he wasn't. If anything, he was doing what he was suited for, given the circumstance. He was acutely focused on love and the like, and even though his husband, with whom he was obsessed with, was not present or involved in any way, Kristopherson had said that he would put in a good word with him if they succeeded, but what's more, this was the proposal that the Watchdog wished he had given his spouse. This time, he wanted it to happen.

"The windows are open." Kristopherson said as he walked back up to the group.

"Good. That will air the place out." the demon replied, waving a hand in front of his face. "The smell of smoke isn't the more 'romantic' of things and doesn't pair well with what we're doing." Turning his head lightly, Ciel's attention focused back on the man of the hour.

"Travis, I need you to pull yourself back together for a moment." he said, snapping Mister Sullivan from his daze. "The idea of homecooked food is lost, but that doesn't mean that dinner is ruined. Does Patricia have a favourite restaurant?"

"Uh… Yes!" Travis answered with life returning back to his eyes. They then faltered again. "They don't deliver, though..."

"Takeout?"

"They do, I think."

"Order whatever you think Patricia will like. If she has a favourite, do that. People like it when you remember things about them. Place the order and then go start getting yourself ready." Dutifully, the former military instructor's attention moved elsewhere. His commanding prescence was enough to make Audrey instinctively stand at attention once the bluenette' s critical eye landed on him.

"Audrey, you go pick it up." Ciel ordered. "I need Kristopherson to help make things look nice and I don't have a car. We're counting on you."

"Yes, sir!" the half-reaper declared.

"Travis will tell you how to get there or help you put it into your GPS." Then, the Phantomhive moved to the remaining member of their crew. "Kristopherson, we need to get those lights back up and make sure the smaller details are in place."

"You're helping?" Kristopherson questioned.

"I can't promise how helpful I'll be, but I'll certainly try." the bluenette answered. "Meeting time over. Everyone get in your positions!"

He clapped his hands once, breaking everyone up. Ciel had always had a way with making people feel driven, so he was able to inspire some confidence with how certain he was that this was not going to fail. If Lord Ciel Phantomhive said that something wasn't going to fail, then it wasn't. That was simply how it was. He was perfectly serious and oftentimes reliable, so he was able to make things feel stable and structured, even when he was simply flying by the seat of his pants.

Travis called the restaurant, pulling himself back together long enough to sound normal on the phone. He then passed on the information needed to pick it up on to Audrey, who leapt into action. Mister Baines swung open the front door of the house before running to his car. It was hard to miss, especially when he jumped over the hood of it like in some action movie. It was a purple Mustang with a black stripe down the middle and it left skidmarks in Travis' driveway as Audrey swung the gears into reverse and peeled out onto the street. Everyone else was praying that he didn't get pulled over before he could get the food back. Travis chose not to dwell on it any further and instead did as he was told, heading upstairs to his bedroom to get ready for that evening while the remaining two went outside and started working on those lights again. As Kristopherson stepped onto the ladder, being careful not to use the top step, he felt comfortable enough to voice some concerns he had now that Travis was out of earshot.

"Do you really think that we can get this done?" he asked. "I mean, wouldn't this go faster if Travis was out here, too?"

"He's very nervous, so he needs some time to unload some of that anxious energy." the bluenette stated, passing up a section of lights to Kristopherson while unwinding the next. "It's very difficult to psych oneself up for this sort of thing, and I don't think he can do that while worrying about doing this and getting ready at the same time. We were making very good time with this before, so I don't think we'll run into any problems as long as we're careful."

Nodding, Kristopherson didn't say anything right away. He lined up the staple gun so that the staples' prongs were on either side of the wire connecting the lights and squeezed. Then, he took the next section along the length of lights and repeated the action until it was time to move the ladder over. After stepping down, he picked it up and walked to the side, forcing the bluenette to move a few paces backwards.

"Were you nervous when you proposed to Alois?" Kristopherson questioned, setting the ladder back down again.

"Extremely." Ciel replied. "The whole reason why I proposed after him forcing me to show my hand was because I kept deflating at better opportunities."

"Did you think he would say 'no?'"

"No… Not really." the bluenette confessed. "It was more about giving him a nice memory. I really wanted to get it right. He still agreed to marry me, though, and we're both happy, so I suppose I was a bit worried over nothing." He smiled as he said this with a light pink tint to his cheeks. Kristopherson looked at him with raised brows before turning back to work.

"Do you think Travis is going to be able to do it?" inquired the wolfman, still stapling.

"I know he can. He's a lot stronger than me, emotionally. He'll be just fine."

Travis was not fine. He wasn't at that moment, at least. In the shower, he cycled between scrubbing himself furiously and staring into space, thinking about everything that could go wrong, but also, everything that could go right. He and Patricia had talked about this. They talked about the possibility of getting married and where they both stood on it. While there were concerns about their respective faiths, they addressed them, more or less. They had even talked a bit about how they were going to even have a wedding, since Travis was invested in his faith, while Patricia's family would want a few traditions of theirs thrown in to keep them happy. Luckily, there were resources online for that sort of thing, now.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried himself off before wrapping his towel around his waist and putting a few more products in his hair while it was still wet. Pausing at the mirror, he reached up and touched his beard, debating on whether or not to shave it off. Closing his eyes, he tried to think of which option Patricia would prefer. She had said he was handsome like this before, but she had also said that about him without it. Then again, she does pet it rather option. The beard stays, he decided, but he also decided to trim it so it was a bit more tidy.

After he had taken care of his grooming, making sure to put on deodorant and a touch of cologne, he started putting on the suit that Kristopherson had set out for him. Unfortunately, the tie he had chosen was a bit too long, which meant that Travis had to look up a tutorial on how to tie a windsor knot. Sighing, he hoped that everything else was running smoothly.

It was, for the most part, with the pair outside getting the lights up rather quickly and Audrey whizzing down the street at an ungodly speed. Lord knows what was going on the the half-reaper's head. He had the soundtrack to some anime blaring and seemed to have little regard for the speed limit. He did, however, slowed down whenever he suspected a speed trap, and made it to the restaurant in one piece. Audrey burst through the doors, wondering if he was going to have to threaten people to move out of the way, if there was a major line. It was only one or two people, thank God, but just as he was about to be rewarded for his patience, the old man in front of him decided to ask what the contents of seemingly every single item on the menu were despite them being written there clearly, in large letters.

Audrey did everything in order to appear calm. He folded his arms, tapped his foot, and fidgeted with his clothes and hair, but his eyes always inevitably wandered back to the clock on his cellphone. The employee behind the counter looked apologetic, but was frustrated as well. When the old man in front of him asked what the same item was twice, Audrey went from agitated to livid in the span of half a second, throwing his hands up as if he were cursing the gods. The movement, however, caught the attention of the man in front of him. The old man turned around, slowly, and wore an exceptionally sour look on his face.

"I'm trying to order." he grouchily said. "You can't get everything you want right when you want it, especially by being rude. You'll live if you have to wait you're turn."

"I'm not here to order! I'm here to pick up!" Audrey hastily answered, trying his best not to sound overtly nasty, but still not being able to conceal all of it. "My friend is about to propose to his girlfriend, but the food plans fell through! I need to get this food back before she gets home! Everything that's on the fucking menu has a fucking description underneath it! Just pick something and go!"

His desperate situation earned him no sympathy from the other man, however, who simply shook his head. "I'm ordering. So you can wait." he said again before turning around. Before he could get back to his stalling, though, Audrey stood on his tip toes and addressed the employee.

"Pick up for Travis Sullivan!" he called out. "I need to pick up an order for Travis Sullivan!"

The employee at the counter looked behind him, prompting another employee to disappear into the kitchen for a moment, only to return with a few boxes. Rapidly, Audrey pulled some cash out of his pocket and counted it, all the while wearing a look of extreme distress on his face. He handed the wad of bills to the employee and took the boxes.

"Keep the change!" he called out as he raced outside the door to his car, leaving the baffled employees and the grouchy old man behind. The employee with the money counted the money in his hand, causing his eyes to widen.

"This is fifty quid!" he declared, but the reaper was already gone.

Audrey knew that he needed to drive slower than he did on the way there in order to protect the contents of the boxes in his passenger seat. Still, he drove as quickly as he could, occasionally letting go of the wheel with one hand in order to keep the food in place. It was dangerous work, but Audrey was glad to do it. It was certainly more thrilling than his desk job at HELLSING.

His efforts and his rudeness were not in vain as the sun was starting to set and Travis was almost ready. Mister Sullivan stood in his bedroom, scrutinising his appearance in the mirror. His tie was on as well as he could fashion it and there was not a single stray thread out of place on his attire. Still, he could do without the occasional fluttering in his stomach. Travis posed in the mirror, checking himself before deflating with a shaky sigh. Placing his hands on the vanity in front of him, he looked down and shut his eyes to try and regain his composure. Anxiously, his fingers tapped against its wooden surface, breaking the silence of the room. Thinking of fingers, he opened his eyes and glanced over at the small box sitting in front of him.

It was_ the_ black box. It was the box of every romantic's hopes and dreams and the scourge of everyone who was afraid of commitment. Would opening it release all of the evils of the world? No, but it didn't make Travis feel any better. He reached out and held it in his fingers before peering inside. Now, in addition to being a rather famous author of romance novels, Travis' mother was also the owner of a jewelry company and as such, this ring had to be their crowning achievement- at least, that is what his mother thought when Travis first told his parents that he wanted to marry Patricia. He knows Miss Ramirez, however. He knows what she likes. Something classy, something timeless, something simple, yet with some drama. She wouldn't be impressed by something dripping in diamonds- in fact, Travis knew that it didn't have to be a diamond at all. He quite liked what the Phantomhives did with their rings, where they both wear each other's birthstone, but that was only sentimental because they both agreed to it, so Travis knew that he couldn't get ahead of himself just yet.

Swallowing hard, he closed the lid again and placed the box in his jacket pocket before checking to see if it left an obvious bump. Believing himself to be in the clear in that aspect, but still royally screwed in many others. Travis was terrified to see what was downstairs, but ultimately knew that he would have to. He thought he did sooner than he actually did when he heard a car pull into the driveway. In an instant, his eyes widened and he practically flew down the stairs, only to see an out of breath Audrey trying to regain his own senses while Kristopherson scooped the contents of the boxes the reaper dropped of onto some plates before wrapping them in tin foil.

"Goodness sake! My house is overrun by supernatural goyim who want to give me a bloody heart attack!" Travis declared, putting a hand over his chest as he shook his head. "Give me strength..."

Ciel blew out the match he was using and stepped away from the kitchen counter. On it sat a few scented candles to help with the remainder of the burnt-food smell that still lingered behind somewhat. "Relax, Travis. Everything is finished." he said, gesturing to the backdoor. "All that's left to do is wait for Patricia to arrive so you can work your magic."

"And put down the rose pedals." Kristopherson reminded. "We still haven't done that."

"Right, right… I'll do that, then." the bluenette answered before moving in search of the box he needed. While he was doing that, Travis walked toward the door and opened it before looking out.

He raised his brows as he saw the gazebo all decorated, shining brilliantly against the setting sun with the table underneath it elegantly set. Travis' jaw slacked as he was shocked that they were somehow able to get it done. He stood there, taking in it all and suddenly realising just how real this was until the next interruption.

"Coming through." Kristopherson said, sucking in his stomach as he stepped past Travis, carefully carrying a tinfoil wrapped plate in both hands. He was followed by the demon, who did the same.

"How did you… do this?" Travis finally asked, his voice soft and quiet.

"It's just a few lights." Ciel said. "Once we got into a groove, everything just sort of fell into place." Kristopherson held his tongue about the few times he almost stapled his fingers, allowing Travis to believe that everything was fine. "Everything is taken care of, Travis. The rest is up to you."

"You can do it, Travis!" Audrey grinned, stepping out of the house to join the others. "If anyone can, it's you."

"Yeah, this disaster was able to propose, so if you can't, then there's no hope for any of us." Kristopherson jested while gesturing to Ciel.

Travis stiffend. He pressed his lips into a thin line as tightly as possible, but they trembled slightly anyway. "Thank you, guys." he said. His voice sounded a bit wet before he cleared his throat. "You're really great."

"Aw..." cooed the wolfman before holding out his arms. "Group hug, everyone!"

He stepped forward and was greeted warmly by Travis while Audrey enthusiastically joined in. They held each other tightly with goofy smiles on their faces. Things stayed that way for a while, before Audrey turned his head, prompting the others to follow his gaze.

"C'mon, Ciel! Get over here!" Mister Baines called out.

"You're the one who saved the day. You need to get in on this." added Mister Miles.

Awkwardly, the bluenette shifted on his feet and folded his arms. "I'm… not really good with that sort of thing..."

"Just this once." Travis replied, letting go of the others. He stepped forward, holding out his arms to the Earl and although he was extremely hesitant, Ciel swallowed his pride and discomfort and made an exception, hugging his friend back and allowing him to express gratitude. He was surprised that he didn't hate it as much as he thought he would, but the idea of physical affection in a fraternal sense was still new territory for him. Travis patted him on the back and they let go, avoiding any further awkwardness.

"You better follow through with it." Ciel said. "Show us your resolve. If you back down, we'll come back."

"Shoot us a text!" Audrey instructed.

"Are you serious?" questioned Muster Sullivan.

"Absolutely. We will turn right back around." Mister Baines warned. "So get engaged."

"I'll do my best..."

"No, get engaged." Audrey insisted. "Get married. Invite me and let me eat your cake. Have babies and invite me to their birthdays so I can eat their cake, too."

"I'm on board with cake." chimed in the Watchdog before the train of thought was interrupted by the sound of clapping hands.

"Alright, children, it's time to leave Mister Sullivan alone." Kristopherson said, electing to be the mature one in this situation. "Let's go. We need to bail before Patty shows up."

"Sounds like a plan." the Phantomhive agreed as he started to walk back towards the house. "I need to get back to Jim."

"What? No, you need to hang out with us some more!" protested Audrey while following him. "We need to wait for news!"

"No, I need to go. I've spent enough time away. The distraction is over and my mind is getting fuzzy again."

"Don't worry, Romeo, I'll tell Jim all about how you saved the day." Mister Miles said, patting Ciel on the back. He and Audrey chuckled as the Watchdog involuntarily smiled, but not to mock him. They were amused, yes, but not at his expense.

Once they were gone, Travis was alone and took a seat at the table underneath the gazebo. The sun was starting to disappear over the horizon as he heard a car pull into the driveway. Immediately, his anxiety spiked, but the woman who stepped out of the vehicle was none the wiser. Now, that didn't mean that she didn't notice anything strange, however. Patricia looked down at the concrete and arched an eyebrow at the dark skidmarks there. She didn't think much of it until she approached the front door and was greeted with a note.

"Go upstairs and get changed. There's a surprise for you in the backyard. -Travis."

Laughing, she shook her head, now knowing that Travis had something up his sleeve. It wasn't typical for the man to perform a particularly grand romantic gesture, although that didn't mean that he did not woo his girlfriend in earnest. In that department, he was a reasonable rival for the Earl Phantomhive, himself, so she knew that this would be fun. That is why she did what the note told herto do without hesitation.

Entering the house and going upstairs, the woman entered her and her boyfriend's shared bedroom, where she immediately noticed a dress and a few accessories neatly laid out on the bed. From the deliberateness of their placement, she intuitively discerned that she was supposed to wear them, but knew that she could not get dressed just yet. She had just come back from the gym and thus had to torture Travis further by making him wait on her to shower and put on makeup. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, as it gave him more time to think about what exactly it was that he was going to say. It most likely wasn't, however, as he had no idea how to smoothly segue into any of his options.

All of that came to a screeching halt, however, when the backdoor opened, signaling for him to stand. Out stepped Patricia, having followed the cliché rose petal trail, but she didn't need it, as the big light-covered gazebo was bright enough now that she knew exactly where to go. The smile on her face was infectious and for the umpteenth time that day, Travis' expression mimicked that of Ciel when the Watchdog was busy daydreaming.

Even though Kristopherson picked out the outfit, it was unmistakably Patricia. Travis knew that she preferred a flowy skirt instead of something form-fitting, and she unapologetically wore flats as she didn't know how to walk in heels and wasn't particularly interested in learning how. Her earrings were clip-ons, designed specifically by Travis' mother after it became apparent that Patricia's ears weren't pierced. It wasn't due to a lack of interest, however. She was simply afraid of the procedure! Even though she was out of the ring and out of her usual athleticwear, Patricia was still Patricia and Travis loved everything about it. She was stunning. She was completely stunning as she approached the gazebo wearing her big, bright grin. Travis smiled back at her and met her partway, taking her hand and kissing it, his beard tickling her skin.

"I see you've had a long, busy, day full of meetings." the woman remarked as her beau escorted her to her seat.

"I had to say something, didn't I? I couldn't exactly tell you that I would be home all day." Travis replied, letting go of her in order to pull out her chair. "I couldn't have you coming back early to see me."

"Aw, you don't want to see me?" Patricia asked while sitting down.

"I do. I just wanted things to be special for you." Travis replied, pushing the woman's chair in before playfully leaning down to kiss her cheek. Straightening his back, he walked around the table and started fiddling with the plates. "Now, I attempted to prepare a little something from Gordon Ramsay's repertoire."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. I failed miserably." Mister Sullivan said, removing the aluminium foil from the first plate before setting it down in front of his beloved. "So instead, we will be dining from the famous fine dining experience known as 'Little Mo's Snack Shack.'"

"Truly, you know the way to my heart." Although she was being sarcastic, she was still smiling and was genuinely pleased. "But seriously, this is really nice. This is a really nice setup..." She trailed off while looking around the gazebo. "It's pretty."

"There's also wine, if you're interested."

"I most certainly am."

Plucking a bottle out of a small cooler on the table, Travis' eyes scanned for a bottle opener before Patricia spotted it behind the cooler and handed it to him. "Thank you." he said before twisting the spiral down into the cork. "Now..." he grunted, pulling on the stopper. "If I can just… Get this… Open..."

"Need help?"

"I've got it..." Mister Sullivan did not seem to have a handle on the situation. He struggled for a little while longer, flexing his muscles as he tried to use brawn instead of his brain for once. All the while, Patricia watched him while starting to put food in her mouth. Eventually, however, the cork came out with a loud _"pop!" _prompting the woman to clap while her champion panted.

"Fuck it up, baby." she playfully commanded while the man poured her a glass. "Fuck me up."

"Oh my God, you're not even tipsy, yet..."

"I am tipsy. Tipsy on my love for you." Patricia winked before taking a sip of her drink, trying not to laugh with her boyfriend as the man finally sat down. "It's good."

"I'm glad." Travis was having a hard time of thinking of things to say. He was never a particularly talkative person, although he could talk to Patricia rather easily. It was simply that his mind was elsewhere and not fully committed to the facade that this was all just a random affectionate gesture.

Every time he thought Patricia got close to calling him out on being up to something, he felt a spike of anxiety flip his stomach upside down and knock his heart into his throat like a pool ball. It was difficult to keep it up, although he was doing fairly well. He was nervous about making a suave, smooth, transition into the question, and was searching for an opportunity to do so. Every time he thought he might have it, he let the moment slip by, having convinced himself that a better one was coming.

While this was happening, however, he knew that he was on a time crunch. While Audrey and the others acted like they were joking, Travis had no doubt in his mind that they actually would turn around and come back for him if he didn't send them a text announcing his success.

"What's wrong, Travis." Patricia questioned, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at the man. "Are you feeling okay? Don't tell me it's food poisoning..."

"No, I'm- I'm fine…"

"Do you want me to go get you some water?"

"No, really, I'm fine." Travis held up a hand and nervously let out a laugh. This was bad. She was suspicious, now. The man had tiptoed toward the edge for long enough that he had run out of space for his feet to go but into open air. There was nothing left for him to do but take the plunge. It wasn't the smooth transition that he had hoped for, but he knew that if he didn't take this opportunity now and another one didn't come, he would be sunk. Somehow, the scenario of Ciel proposing to his own spouse came to Travis' mind. Why was it that no one seemed to be able to do this without having their hand forced?

"I'm nervous." he confessed.

"About what?" Patricia questioned. "Did something happen?"

"No, not yet. It's just that the hardest part of this has come and I've been worried about doing it right." the man tried to explain. He folded his hands in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers. "I know how to use words. I'm a writer. You're a writer. You know what that looks like. I'm just not the best at talking."

"Hey," the woman began, reaching across the table to put her hand over Travis'. "It's okay. It'll be fine, I promise." She smiled at him reassuringly without a trace of doubt or concern on her face. Patricia looked him straight in the eyes as she held his hand, her expression certain and knowing. Travis' eyebrows raised. Swiftly, he shifted their hands so that his was covering hers.

"Patricia, I-" his confidence came to him in a sudden rush, causing him to bark out with overwhelming enthusiasm for the otherwise low key man before he cleared his throat and paused. Maintaining his hold on her hand, he stood up from his seat and slowly walked around the table in order to stand in front of him. Softening his voice, he crouched down on one knee and looked up at her.

"I love you." he said. "I want to devote my love to you completely. I want you to know that I'm always going to support you. It's selfish, but I want to be together with you always."

Finally, he let go of her hand. He was starting to sweat a little as he reached into his pocket. As he pulled out the box, he heard Patricia gasp and when he looked up at her again, her hands were covering her mouth and nose. The boxer's eyes were a bit wet, but Travis hoped that she would endure it just a little bit longer.

Opening the box, he offered the ring inside to her. "Will you marry me, Patricia?"

That did it. The tears in the woman's eyes that were threatening to spill over finally did as she forced her hands away from her grinning face. She nodded, leaning down and holding onto the sides of the man's face. "Of course!" she said, tilting his chin up to quickly kiss him.

"I need to put the ring on, first!" Travis protested when Patricia pulled away.

"Okay." she said, but pecked him again anyway. "One more. Okay. Go ahead."

With a laugh, the man took the ring out of the box and gently set the container on the ground before taking her hand. He ran his thumb over her rough knuckles with a fond grin before slipping the ring onto her finger. She paused, holding her hand out to look at it briefly, but it almost seemed like she did it as a formality, as soon after, she was latched back on to Mister Sullivan with her arms around his neck. Slowly, Travis tried to stand, lifting the woman's torso up with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and soon, she needed to stand up with him because she wasn't ready to let go just yet.

They rocked back and forth, laughing and kissing, but they weren't out of danger just yet. They continued their dinner with greater enthusiasm than before, but eventually, Travis had to send a message. He asked his fiance for permission, as he didn't want to be rude. Fortunately, it was only three words.

Elsewhere in London, a phone sitting on a table in a pub vibrated. Audrey picked it up and unlocked it, but other sets of eyes were peering down at it as well. They were silent as they got swept up in suspense, but but it did not last.

"She said yes!" Audrey declared, causing and eruption of loud cheering to fill the pub.

Kristopherson and Ciel were there, but they invited guests to come meet them and wait with them for news. Jim arrived and both he and his husband hugged tightly, somehow preventing the menace from standing up on the table. Daniel joined them, wanting to take part in the celebration as the group caused a scene. None of them were drinking, as only two of them could get drunk and both of them drove themselves there, but all of them acted like a bunch of rowdy pub-goers. Very few of the other pub-goers minded. Most of them laughed along with them and politely raised their glasses when the situation was explained.

It was a night for the original Sensational Seven to celebrate and catch up. Not everybody was there, but for good reason. Still, they had a good time, all the same. It had been a long time since they were able to have fun together all in one spot, save for the funeral a while back, but it is a bit hard to talk about general updates on how life was going when one's thoughts were filled with dead children.

Daniel talked about how things were going with Theodore, save for the contents on his conversation with Jim. He also talked about Theodore's daughter, Ruby Ravenscroft, with great fondness. From the sound of it, he spoiled her, somewhat, but to be fair, he did the same with Samantha. He said that all three of them were going to go to the London Zoo at the end of the week and seemed excited about it.

Jim, on the other hand, was joined at the hip with his spouse, who had his arm around the back of the blonde's chair. It was a little embarrassing, though, as it didn't seem like Ciel was really listening to anything the others were saying. His attention was entirely focused on Jim. Perhaps it was because the Watchdog had spent several hours away from him, but it was enough to allow the others to see the rare sight of Jim blushing in public.

Kristopherson's own relationship was still going well. There was nothing new to report there, other than Logan's arm was still sore. On the bright side, however, both of their contracts with HELLSING had brought in new revenue. They weren't sure how to spend it yet, so they decided to just save it for now. The idea of going on a trip together was entertained, as Logan had only ever really left London and Gehenna on a trip to Daniel's beach house one summer with the Essential Eight.

"France isn't a good idea because of the residual Iscariot influence, but maybe it's better to start small, anyway." suggested Jim. "Probably somewhere closer would be a good idea."

"That's true. Probably somewhere we can get to by car or by train." Kristopherson agreed. "He's terrified of the idea of flying or sailing."

"You could have a road trip!" the menace suggested with a snap of his fingers. "Ciel and I drove through France on our honeymoon and it was a lot of fun! Wasn't it, darling?"

Finally, Ciel joined in the conversation, although he still focused on his beloved. He nodded at Jim with a big smile. "It was. It was very romantic."

"We should go on another trip, sometime." his husband replied. "I still haven't seen all that much of the UK, either."

"Just say when." Ciel practically cooed, much to the bizarre delightful repulsion of the others.

"You should to that, Kris. It's really fun to stop at random things you see along the way!" Jim continued, picking back up on the first conversation, much to the disappointment of the Watchdog until Jim took hold of his free hand in both of his own.

"That could be fun..." Kristopherson answered, rubbing his chin.

"I still have that beach house if you want to rent it for a bit." Daniel chimed in. "I'll even give you the friends' discount."

"There's an idea… I thought you sold it, though?" the wolfman questioned.

"Nah, I just rented it." Mister Westley stated while rubbing the back of his head. "I usually rent it out during summer, but I'm still looking for buyers! If you know anybody who could use a beach house, you tell me. I'm tired of paying for taxes and maintenance. It's hurting my inheritance."

"I'll see if my mum knows anybody." Kristopherson offered. It was a very serious matter and all of them knew it. Daniel wasn't taking much money in, apart from renting the property, so it was a drain on what was left of his inheritance. He had hoped to save it in order to retire with once he feels done with working, but although it wasn't even close to that time, yet, he was worried about that not happening. The Wolfman continued, though. "You should take Ted and Ruby up there sometime before you sell it, though."

"I should. Maybe I'll talk to Ted about that… It would be a waste not to use it, after all!"

"But then where would I go whenever I want to bunk off work?" Audrey joked. He turned his head in order to listen to the conversation a bit better, but Daniel could still see him clearly grinning from the side.

"I'm not going to pay taxes on a personal bunking off spot for you, arsehole."

"Fine. I'll just have to ask to borrow a house from my dad." the reaper said.

"You're dad has a house for you to borrow?" Daniel asked, but all of the others leaned forward to see Audrey's response. They all knew about Audrey's biological father by now. They knew that he had helped Audrey cheat death before, but didn't know if Audrey knew anything about him beyond his name. Audrey calmly took a sip from his drink before answering.

"Yeah? He owns a big pharmaceutical company? You guys know that."

"_Mister Baines_..." Kristopherson pointed out with a sigh while the others deflated.

"Yeah? Wait, did you think I meant Peter? No way. I've never even talked to him." the half-reaper replied. "He's not my dad. _My dad_ is my dad. I don't go around calling him 'stepdad' or by his real name. That would be weird."

"Sorry." Kristopherson apologised, even though everyone else made the same mistake. "We thought you meant your real dad."

"He is my real dad. He's been my dad since I was four and he's the only one I've got. I don't know Peter. He's nobody to me." There was a tad bit of hostility in Audrey's voice, so it was mutually decided that it was best to drop the subject.

Their cheer did return, however, and eventually, their night out together ended with all of them heading back to their own respective vehicles. The Phantomhives were forced to separate, as Jim joined the group by taking his own car while Ciel arrived on his motorcycle. The latter of the two was the most displeased by the separation, however, and had a few thoughts on what a better situation would look like.

"If you brought your helmet, we could go for a ride together..." he said, holding his own headgear in his hands as his beau stood next to the car parked beside him and was about to climb in.

"True, but we'd still have to come back for the car." Jim reminded.

"I know. It would just be a ride, not to go home." Ciel had not quite given up on his fantasy from the other day of having his spouse ride on the back of his bike with him.

"Yeah, I know..." the menace replied, pausing as he opened the door. "We should do that. I was thinking we should go somewhere tomorrow, anyway."

"Really?" That made the Watchdog perk up instantaneously. Jim snorted when he looked over his shoulder at Ciel, but the bluenette was too happy to interpret it negatively. Jim thought he looked like a puppy.

"Yeah. We haven't done that since you've been potioned and I feel bad for pawning you off on other people, lately. I'm sorry about that… I've got my stuff done for now, though, so I can take a few days off. I know you need the attention, don't you?"

"I do..." Ciel said without thinking before realising his mistake. "I mean- If it's alright with you..."

"It is." the other Phantomhive laughed. He put getting in the car on hold for a moment and instead took a few steps forward to bridge the gap between them. Placing a hand on Ciel's shoulder, he placed a kiss against his lips, causing the Earl's face to flush bright red.

"I'll see you at home, darling~!"

"Y-yeah." Quickly, the bluenette put on his helmet to hide his face. His heart was beating so fast, lately, but he was only nervous when he remembered that this wasn't his own doing.

The Earl swung his leg over his bikeseat and sat down, but he saw an opportunity to show off in front of his beau and could not resist it. It wasn't like him at all, but it was like his mind was clouded with endorphins and testosterone and it compelled him to rev his engine really loud and do a quick wheelie before leaving the parking lot, just like it compelled him to do do a number of other strange things.

His beau simply laughed as he watched him make his grand exit before shaking his head. Ordinarily, if it were any other man, he would laugh at his expense and make some joke about insecurity, but somehow, because it was Ciel, he found it cute. Dumb, but cute. He could only imagine what kind of stupidity he was unleashing upon the world by being out in public with him, but he met the challenge with enthusiasm.

* * *

**A/N: Hallo. Finals week is almost over, so my suffering is about to end! Also I'll probably write faster. I dunno yet. We'll see. Life happens.**

**This chapter would've probably been out faster, but I had a whole bunch of problems with it. Travis' voice was hard to write in, because he's the one I have the least practise in writing for! **

**Once I switched characters, it was like "I know how this song and dance goes. Whatever, my dudes." and it went by real quick.**

**It seems like I want to do every single storyline except the one I set up for the duo, though! Pfft! It's like? I suddenly remembered? I have other characters? Shocking, I know! I'll keep checking back in and wrap that short little number up, though, don't you worry. **

**I just want to write... so much dumb shit... Is that so wrong?**

**I'm also not sure about the length of the chapters, still. I didn't get a lot of feedback on that. This time, though, I changed characters and subjects fewer times, so hopefully that helped? I'm serious! Please tell me! I can't know what you're thinking if you don't!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	7. And Everything Nice

"It's red." Wink said, showing Geraldine the glass container in her hand.

"Huh?" the other woman gawked, confusion written all over her typically stoic face.

"The mixture is red." Wink clarified, setting the jar back on her desk before she began writing down notes. "You're clean. You haven't ingested any kind of potion. You're good to go."

"Wait..." Geraldine held out a hand and reached up to touch her forehead with the other, scrunching her eyes shut. "If that's not it, then..."

"You probably just have a crush. It happens all the time-"

"No! I mean- Are you sure? This is- It's really inconvenient..."

"I'm not going to make you a potion to make you stop having a crush, so don't ask." Wink bluntly stated.

"I wasn't going to, but alright..."

This was bad. This was very bad. Geraldine was not alright with this. These feelings she had were uncomfortable and took her focus away at inconvenient times. She also felt awkward and she didn't like that. Geraldine Midford was not an awkward person who was uncomfortable around other people. Other people were uncomfortable around her and her stoic gaze. That was how she preferred to keep things, but no, that is not what was happening. Instead, her head was filled with stupid thoughts like how pretty Samantha's eyes were, how cute her dimples were, and how nice her hair smelled. Geraldine didn't like that she even noticed that her friend's hair had a smell!

Even worse, she had no idea what she was going to tell her family when she arrived home. Why did she even admit to having feelings in the first place? She felt like that was a stupid move on her part. If she came home and told them that she was wrong, she knew exactly what was going to happen. Her father was going to try and convince her to get together with Samantha and her brother… Oh, Oliver… He was going to be a terror- the actual bane of her existence.

They had a playful relationship already with a healthy dose of sibling rivalry and annoyance. Lately, the man's favourite thing to do was make rude gestures at her with his phantom limb. She couldn't see him doing it, but she knew he was. Both of them did. It was obvious from the snarky expression on his face. She couldn't prove it, though. Geraldine didn't even want to think about the pestering that would come from admitting that she was wrong, especially about something like this.

She wasn't looking forward to arriving home. When she walked through the door, she was careful to close it as quietly as possible so that she wouldn't alert anyone. The house was still without a single soul in sight. Geraldine raised her wrist in order to check the time. Her father should have had a class around then. Oliver typically sat in, so all she really had to worry about was running into her mother and that Irish girl with the mean face. With some confidence restored, she made her way up the stairs, keeping her ears honed in to any and all sound. Her bedroom was just around the corner, now, so she thought she was home free. She got careless and immediately ran into the last person she wanted to.

"'Sup?" Oliver questioned. Dammit. He was just coming out of his room wearing his fencing gear, save for the mask. Despite no longer having his dominant hand, he still continued to fence, eager to build up muscle in his left hand. Sometimes, Geraldine wished he wasn't such an overachiever.

"'Sup." she answered back, trying to move past him. Before she could wrap her fingers around the doorhandle, however, the man called out to her.

"So, how'd it go?"

Double-dammit. Of all of the things he could have said, why did he have to ask that? How was Geraldine supposed to respond? Was she just supposed to admit that she was wrong and that she had attributed actual feelings to a potion? Was she just supposed to admit to having those feelings at all? All of those options were horrible, but Geraldine needed to make a choice as to what she was going to say.

"I don't want to talk about it." When in doubt, stall. She didn't know if she could get away with a lie, as it might come up again later and she would be forced to expose herself in a much more embarrassing way. She whole-heartedly expected her brother to challenge her, but to her surprise, he didn't.

"Okay." he said. "Talk about it when you feel like it. I won't tell mum and dad you're back."

Geraldine paused, glancing over he shoulder very briefly before looking forward again, facing her door. "Thanks." she said before quickly turning the knob and disappearing inside, leaving her brother concerned and alone in the hallways.

Her visit with Wink was not in vain, however, as it further proved that this was not a targeted attack against the Phantomhives and affiliated families. The HELLSING Investigations Department, however, was becoming more confident in deciphering what had happened. Naturally, they would keep Geraldine's identity secret if this meeting was ever used in evidence, but it was uncertain as to whether or not that would be necessary.

There was skepticism that the man who had given Jim the dreaded cup of tea that poisoned the Watchdog actually knew what he was doing, given the way that he spoke when interviewed and the fact that he turned himself in. According to him, he had been in line ahead of the Phantomhives' group, gotten his tea from the person at the counter, and overheard that the Watchdog wanted the same kind that he had received, but that they had run out. Thus, the man gave his cup to Jim, who then gave it to Ciel. It was a plausible story, but that left a few details out. He did give investigators the names of the people who he saw working there that night, as he couldn't remember exactly which one handed him the tea.

That hypothesis took them far. Most of the staff at the restaurant were cooperative, save for a few, as most everybody simply wanted to get things over with. The fact that this was a case involving the Phantomhive family was also a factor, as none of them wanted to be on the wrong side of the diabolical aristocrats. The samples taken from the kitchen came up negative, but HELLSING knew where each of the staff lived from their records. The fact that it was HELLSING staff that was given the potion exempted investigators from needing a warrant to search the staff's property. It was unfair, but there were still some things that weren't. If this was an ordinary Gehenna Police Department investigation, things would have been different.

Wink was given a phonecall, as she was the one who the patients suspected of being poisoned had been placed in the care of, thus far. There were a few concerned citizens who were tested, but all of them came up negative. This was a targeted attack, and the investigations department wanted it solved quickly. That is why they called her to search the houses of The Black Cauldron's staff members, as she was the only one who knew what exactly it was that they were looking for. While Dafydd Blake, HELLSING's other magical expert also had some idea, he was in the middle of his own investigation, albeit an HR investigation, and could not be assigned this case.

She stepped into the first house and found a few ingredients that could be used and the typical magical instruments that most sorcerers had in their possession and commonly used. While the ingredients were of interest, there wasn't much else to tie the homeowners to the crime. Then, she came to one house that immediately piqued her interest.

"Pink and red candles." she said, pointing them out to the investigators. "That's something I'm looking for. Theycan be used in love-related spells or in this case, potions. Tell me if you find any incense. Rose scented- maybe lavender."

"What about the knives?" the investigator asked. "Those are the… magic knives, right?"

"Yes. don't worry about those unless they're next to something suspicious." Wink somehow managed to both assure and instruct the investigator at the same time. Other than the candles, however, she was having a hard time finding any of the things she was looking for. She raised her hand up and used an alternative method.

"_Acta non verba."_ she said aloud, prompting one of the stones on her ring to glow. She then began pointing the finger that it sat on. "_I call upon the powers of the North, the East, the West, and the South. I call upon Notus and I call upon fire. Grant me the power of sight and show me the direction of that which I seek." _She closed her eyelids and tapped them with the finger that her ring sat on before opening them again. When she opened them again, she scanned the room.

The display no longer concerned the investigators like it had the first two times they saw her do this, but by now, they were skeptical that it actually did anything. She found nothing at the previous houses, after all. It seemed like she was just being strange for the hell of it. As she looked around, however, her eyes fixated in one direction. Wink followed her own gaze, walking across the room before arriving at the sink in the small kitchen. There were many bowls that sat in it, but she plucked one in particular out immediately and peered inside.

"This is it." she announced. "I'm sure of it."

Walking back into the living room where the others were, she set the bowl on the coffeetable. "You can still see some of the herbs left at the bottom." she added, while pulling her bag closer to her and crouching down next to the table. She dug inside of the old, worn, leather bag and pulled out a jar. Unscrewing the lid, she poured a little bit of the contents inside of the bowl before screwing it back on. "This is the same stuff I used to test my patients' blood." Wink informed, pulling a rolled up piece of dyed leather out of her bag.

As she unrolled it, she revealed a set of magic tools neatly sorted into small pockets on the inside, but out of all of them, she picked a stick that had been thrown amoungst the mix rather haphazardly, as it wasn't usually part of her set. Regardless, this is what she used to stir the liquid and as she did, it slowly began to change colours. Until she was sure that it wasn't going to darken any further, she kept at it, but once she felt confident that it was going to stay the way it was, she stopped.

"It's pink." she announced, looking up at the investigators. "It's positive."

That was all that the agents needed to hear. One of them turned to walk outside, while the other stayed with Wink to collect the evidence. Outside, the homeowner was nervous and joined by a few others. One of them was a coworker and two of them were neighbours, but all of them were surprised when the homeowner was placed in handcuffs by HELLSING agents. There was some protest on the part of onlookers, but the homeowner herself did nothing but cooperate. She was placed in the back of a truck and hauled off to the police station for interrogation. It was closer and was equipped for it, so it was decided that it was easier than bringing the woman off to HELLSING headquarters.

Wink's job was done, however, so she went back to base. The world outside kept moving for the two hours that it took to get the homeowner to explain herself. After it passed, phonecalls were made and one of them was to the Phantomhive household.

Jim stood at his desk, leaning on it with one palm pressed against its surface while holding a phone in the other. He didn't say much to the person on the other end, only nodding as if they could see him while uttering several "mm-hms," "uh-huhs," and the occasional "yes" or "I understand." His tune changed toward the end of the call, asking "Oh, really?" before finally wrapping things up by assuring the caller that he would "tell him." With that, he hung up and turned around, facing his husband, who was fully dressed in his casual clothes and ready to go for a ride on his motorcycle. Ciel looked up at Jim expectantly, prompting the blonde to address him.

"Interesting news." Jim prefaced. "For one: Geraldine showed up at the research department for testing. She thought that she had been drugged, too, but it turns out it she was wrong. It came back negative."

"Oh, really?" the Watchdog questioned, suddenly realising why his beau had said that on the phone.

"Yup. She's got a crush on somebody. Dunno who, though."

"We'll find out when we find out-_ if_ we find out at all." Ciel noted.

"Pretty much, but that's not the only thing." spoke the menace, walking over to the bluenette and leaning over, resting his hands on the arm of the sofa his beau sat on. "They've also caught the person who made the potion."

"Oh!" the bluenette sounded enthused- perhaps overly so. "What happened?"

"Turns out, it was the girl who was handing out tea." Jim explained. "She made the potion at home and dropped it in the tea of that guy who gave it to me. _She _has a crush on _him, _so he was actually the target, not us. It was just completely random that we ended up with it."

"I see..." There was a pause, before the menace awkwardly continued.

"That's basically the gist of it. It's out of out hands, now, but it's comforting that it isn't as big as it could've been. They're setting a court date. She'll be tried and probably convicted, knowing the judge. I admire her lack of patience for creeps."

"Sounds good." Ciel said.

"Your mind is elsewhere, I know. It's okay."

"I'm sorry." It was true, though. While Ciel was also relieved of the news, his input was limited by his lack of focus. They had been interrupted while in the middle of getting ready to go for a ride together, and Ciel was not very happy about it. He couldn't help it, though. His mind was still completely made up of Jim.

Gently, the blonde kissed his beau on the top of his head. "Don't worry about it. It's all settled. I'll be relieved for the both of us!" Standing upright again, Jim gestured for his spouse to do the same. "C'mon! Let's go. Time's a-wastin'!"

The Earl immediately shot out of his seat and started heading toward the door before Jim could get a good look at the silly expression on his face. That was all he wanted to hear. Quickly, Jim followed after him, trying to keep up, but all the while laughing somewhat at the bluenette's enthusiasm. At the same time, though, while Ciel's heart was completely into the idea, Jim wasn't sure that he was after that call. It caused a lot of thoughts to enter and weigh down on his mind.

Even if Ciel wasn't fully affected by the potion, Jim wondered if it was alright for him to be enjoying the bluenette's antics. It wasn't right for that woman to try and force another person to like her and enter a romantic relationship with her, so it didn't really feel right for Jim to have fun with Ciel being like this, despite Ciel's insistence that it's fine. Was it really fine? Or was that just something that someone under the influence of a love potion would say? Wink said it was fine, which made Jim feel better, but still, Ciel was obsessed. It wasn't like him. While Jim loved how sweet the other Phantomhive was being, it still didn't feel like the "Ciel" that he was in love with, at times. It worried him. He knew that they were going to have to talk about it when they got home. Jim would let Ciel enjoy the ride, however. After all, it was hard to deny him when he was smiling so brightly.

* * *

**A/N: This is short... I didn't get much feedback on chapter length, and what I did was conflicting, so I'm kind of experimenting with it. I think it kind of works here, though, because I don't want the chapter to get bogged down with so many things that everything gets kind of overwhelming and drowns each other out. I'm still open to advice, if you have it.**

**I'll continue it next time, naturally. My finals are over, so I'm free! Begone, infernal group work! I banish thee to the shadow realm!**

**That means I'll have more time for this! But I'm also gonna work on a comic over the summer and volunteer (maybe?) so I probably won't be doing this 24/7!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	8. Idle Chit-Chat

Wind rushed against Jim's fingertips as he held his beloved from around his waist. The baronet settled against his spouse's back as he sat behind him on Ciel's motorcycle, as the both of them enjoyed the closeness between them. Neither of them said anything. All that they could hear was the rush of air and the roar of the engine and that was just fine.

Ciel was positively beaming from behind the cover of his helmet. He had wanted this exact situation since he rode through the small village when he first realised that he was poisoned, wanting the feeling of his beau against his back as he rode. If asked, he wouldn't be able to explain why he wanted this. It was just such a nice image, that of the two lovers on a motorcycle. There was something romantic about it, or something that the bluenette had romanticised in his head. Either way, he liked it. He liked being a part of it. It was classic, but also, it was fun.

He liked being the dashing gentleman who whisked his spouse off of his feet. He liked that his spouse humoured him and allowed him to have his fun. He liked being in love and didn't particularly mind the intensity with which he felt it, now. He minded that it was a bit inconvenient to the people around him, especially his husband, and yet, he really liked this feeling. Ciel wanted to romance Jim. It was a strong urge that he needed to entertain, so he was glad that the menace was allowing him to be so selfishly head over heels for him. Perhaps he wasn't the "dashing gentleman" that he wanted to be. To him, it was probably more than likely Jim, instead.

The menace, however, had his own thoughts on the matter. He loved the closeness and he loved the affection, but he had his worries. Jim worried that Ciel was only doing these things because of the potion, which opened the door to a whole slew of problems. The blonde didn't want to take advantage of Ciel's current state for his own gain, whether it was in terms of material gain like in the form of gifts, or in terms of physical affection. In some ways, the latter was worse than the former. While Jim had needed to dissuade the bluenette from dropping several grand on a luxury watch for the menace that Jim didn't need, the blonde more shamefully allowed Ciel to get very far physically. That scared him. While Wink's test to see if Ciel has maintained autonomy and that he wouldn't do anything that he would be vehemently opposed to normally made Jim feel better, he knew that they needed to talk. He waited patiently, however, allowing Ciel to have his fun on the ride together and very selfishly allowing himself to do the same.

Yet, there came a time when it had to end. They passed through the front gate to the Phantomhive Estate and traveled up the driveway. The bike slowed down before finally coming to a stop inside of the garage. Ciel switched off the engine and the blonde let go of the bluenette's waist. It suddenly felt cold where Jim's arms were and Jim's arms felt empty. The menace swung his leg over the back of the bike first as he dismounted the vehicle, soon followed by the other man. The blonde took off his helmet before placing it on the shelf where it belonged before watching his beau do the same. A light blush dusted Jim's cheeks as he saw the other man. Ciel's face was a similar tint, but wore a wide grin across it as the Earl tried to keep himself from giggling like a schoolboy. It was a stark contrast from the bluenette's usual range of facial expressions, but it wasn't impossible.

"That was fun." Ciel finally said, walking up to the blonde and standing beside him as he placed his helmet on the shelf next to Jim's. "Thank you for humouring me a bit. I had a good time."

"Really? Just from that?" Jim questioned, arching an eyebrow. "If I'd known it would make you that happy, I would've done it a while ago!"

To his surprise, that made the other Phantomhive's blush darken a bit. "Well…" the bluenette began. "No, nevermind."

"What?" the blonde pressed. "What is it?"

"Well… Uh… It's a little embarrassing, but… Can we do it a bit more often normally?" Ciel bashfully inquired. "I mean, when I'm not- You know… I really like riding with you normally, too, so..."

That was surprising. It was as thought Ciel had already known what was on Jim's mind. "Sure, if you want to." Jim replied. "You mean un-drugged, right? I actually kind of wanted to know about that. Do you think about stuff like this normally?"

"I, uh… I do, sometimes..." confessed the bluenette. He averted his husband's gaze for just a moment before returning it. "You said you'd do some of the things that I want to do, so it seemed like a good time to ask..."

"Really? I mean, you can always ask. It's nothing particularly scandalous, or anything."

"I know. It's just… It's a little cliché, isn't it? It's like something out of a terrible romantic comedy."

Somehow, the return of that bashfulness was comforting, although Jim knew that he shouldn't encourage it. To him, it was a sign that Ciel was still Ciel. Tilting his head, the menace asked: "Can I talk to you about a couple of things?"

"Of course?" the bluenette replied. "Is something wrong? I mean, more wrong than usual?"

"I think it'll be easier if we sit down somewhere. Not because it's anything bad! It's just that I have a lot of questions and I don't really want to stand around in the garage all day."

"Alright." Ciel readily agreed. A possible problem had been presented to him and Ciel was eager to solve it. He gestured for the menace to start walking with him, trying his best not say anything that neither of them would want anyone to hear along the way.

They arrived at the master suite and removed their jackets and shoes. They each plopped down on a sofa, sitting across from each other in the front room. Jim leaned back and sighed, propping his feet up on the coffeetable while his husband did the same. "So..." the blonde began. "About my questions..."

"Go ahead." the bluenette answered. "I'll answer them the best I can."

"Alright… First one: Do you mind that I'm not always into spending time with you?"

"You mean lately?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, I would like it if I could be around you all of the time, but I know that the amount of attention I want right now isn't really realistically achievable." Ciel replied.

"Does it upset you?"

"It does and it doesn't… It's hard to explain… I want it, but I know I don't need it. Sometimes I feel it so intensely that I do feel a bit bad if I'm left to my own devices, but if I'm distracted, I can ignore it. I know that you still love me."

"I do." Jim smiled, moving his foot on the table so that was touching his husband's. "I love you a whole lot. I do think I should spend more time with you. I'm just worried that this whole thing can be used as an excuse to be doing things that we already should've been doing or at least talked about beforehand."

"Like what?"

"Well… Uh..." A blush formed on the menace's face. "I mean… I like how cuddly you are." he admitted. "Just physical affection in general. I like it."

"Mm-hm."

"And… The sex is great, too..." Jim stated, pausing to rub his face with his hand. "I feel kind of guilty that I like it so much."

"Really?" questioned his beau. His brows were raised and his cheeks were a little pink. "I, uh… That's good. That's really good! I was… I was actually worried that it was a bit much? I didn't want to overwhelm you or ask you to do more than you want to do or feel comfortable doing. You don't feel pressured?"

"No! Not at all! I like it! I kind of wanted to be doing it a bit more than we usually do for a while, so… It felt kind of like I was taking advantage of you..."

"Really?"

"Really."

"_Really_ really?" Ciel pressed further. "I'm glad about that. I was worried that I was getting annoying."

"No, no… With our jobs, we get busy sometimes, so it doesn't feel appropriate or I worry that it's the wrong mood for it."

"It's a good way to relieve stress, but I agree. I feel like I have the same problem."

"So… Can we work on that when the potion wears off?" the blonde asked.

"Yeah. I'm not just saying that because I'm… you know. We can really do that."

"Okay… That's good." Jim sighed. "I still feel bad that I'm just kind of taking? It feels like you're paying me all of this attention and I'm not giving back as much. I think I should be romancing you, too, but I'm not as smooth as you."

"I don't mind. I like paying attention to you, normally." stated the Watchdog. "I really like it when you pay attention to me, but I also like… What's a delicate way of putting this?"

"Topping?"

"Well, that, and romancing you in general." Ciel stated. "I like doing it. I like being romantic and… well… making love to you. I like it when you feel happy, so making you feel that way makes me happy, too."

"You telling me to 'just ask' when you use round about ways to talk about sex is kind of silly, you know..." the blonde pointed out, prompting the other man to touch his chin and tilt his head.

"Would you prefer it if I was more direct?"

"I don't care. If that's just the way you are, it's the way you are."

"I'm not sure if it is." the Watchdog confessed. "I… I worry about how I come across most of the time, so I try to use my words carefully. You know that. You've heard me. I don't enjoy being vulgar at all, but sometimes… I honestly really admire how you can just say the things you mean as directly as you do. "

"Then say what you mean." Jim instructed. "I won't be offended."

Leaning back in his seat, Ciel tilted his chin up, attempting to put on some haughty posturing. "Your arousal is arousing to me." he said. "It drives me wild, but... I don't want to be a boor or brute. There's all sorts of things about it that get me going, but overall, I like it when you want me. On a less charged note, it's similar when wooing you as well. I want to make you smile. I want to hear you laugh. It's like- my chest gets all warm when I see you happy, so I want to make you happy often. It's sort of like that."

The blonde's face was completely red. The darkness of his blush contrasted greatly with the paleness of his eyes and hair. How could Ciel just casually pull that out of nowhere? How was he supposed to respond? It made the blonde happy, of course, but still, it made him feel guilty. He felt guilty that he was happy, and he needed to address it as quickly as possible in order to make himself stop feeling this way.

"Ciel," he began, "can I ask you something else?"

"What is it?"

Jim hesitated, but quickly gathered up the courage to ask what he felt sounded like a strange question: "Wink said that… The potion would make you feel similarly to how you would feel if you had a crush on me."

"It has, yes."

"Then… Why don't you act like it?" the menace questioned, finally looking up at his spouse. The question obviously caught the Watchdog off guard, by how his eyebrows were raised, but Jim persisted. "You don't seem nervous that often. In fact, you're downright bold- even bolder than usual. This isn't how you acted when you had a crush on me at first, so… What's going on?"

Ciel paused, unsure as to how to answer that right away. He rubbed his chin and looked away for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, but soon, he had an idea as to what he needed to say in order to properly explain it. He took his feet off of the table and planted them firmly on the floor as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at the menace.

"It's because I'm not a schoolboy anymore." he said to Jim, his voice sounding certain. "I'm not the nervous boy who had never wanted a romantic relationship or had that feeling returned before anymore. I'm a grown man who is now married to the love of my life. It sounds strange to say, but my love for you has changed. It has gotten deeper and more firmly planted. I feel comfortable with you now, as you being here and in a relationship with me feels like it is the most natural thing in the world.

"It may not look like it, always, but it does feel a lot like I have a crush on you in some ways. My fixation on you, my inability to stop thinking about you, the way my heart quickens when we're close, how whenever I see you, I see you as practically glowing nonstop… All of this is a part of that. I feel all of those symptoms, but I don't have a crush on you. I'm in love with you. That's the difference. It doesn't mean that the way I feel is fake, Jim. It means that I've grown into you, and so the way I express affection for you has changed."

He started confident, but grew anxious as the blonde simply stared at him. Twiddling his thumbs, Ciel waited for Jim's response. Then, the blonde sighed, reaching up to rub his own face. He could feel how hot his skin was in his palm and knew that Ciel could see it.

"Alright." Jim said. "That makes me feel so much better..."

"Were you worried?"

"Very. But… Also that's very sweet." Jim looked up at Ciel with his pale blue eyes, causing the Watchdog's heart to do a somersault. Didn't he hear anything the bluenette just said? That was dangerous!

"I'm glad you think so." Ciel smiled.

"Come here." The menace held his arms out, beckoning the bluenette toward him. Slowly, Ciel did what he was told and stood up. He walked around the coffeetable and sat next to the other man, inserting himself right in the middle of Jim's embrace. "I love you." the blonde said, kissing the other man's cheek.

"I love you, too!"

"I feel a bit better about everything, but there's still a few things that bother me, though." Jim informed, causing Ciel's smile to falter a bit.

"Like what?"

"Well… You know I love it when you take care of and dote on me, right? I love it. Really, I do." the blonde began to explain. "But I don't want to be the only one being romanced! I feel like I need to be doting on you, too! You know how you get all 'every man feels the need to take care of his family?'" he asked, dropping his voice and furrowing his brow in a rather good impression of his husband. "I feel that way sometimes, too. I'm just… I'd like to know how I can do that. I'm not a natural gentleman like you, and Googling 'victorian flirting techniques' didn't give me anything."

At first, Ciel was concerned, but that last bit made him laugh. "Just do what you want or what you think will make me happy. You don't have to do it my way if that isn't your way. Just love me and that's enough."

"I know, but I want to sweep you off your feet, too! Preferably without repeating the 'steak tartare incident.'"

"True, but you do make me feel that way! I love it when you make me food and you're very handsome when you take the lead while dancing. It's fun when we go to museums and stuff and you put up with my ranting and raving. I think that you are handsome and charming, Jim. Just do what you think seems right."

"'Kay… You know I really like being a brash, n'er-do-well, but sometimes, I feel like I want to channel that dapper, charming, kinda posh James Bond aesthetic. I just don't know how."

"You could wear more suits."

"I could..." Pulling away, Jim smiled at his spouse. "Can we go somewhere tomorrow? I dunno where. Somewhere fun. Maybe… I dunno, like a zoo or something?"

"Oh! That suits you!"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's like a museum, but more traditionally 'fun'." Ciel quickly explained, holding up his hands as he flusteredly waved them. "I like your wildness, so I think it would be a shame if you went completely posh, but I also like how professional you are, and zoos kind of… unify those two ideas?"

"Is it that deep?" the menace ultimately laughed.

"Maybe not, but it does make sense, at least in my head."

"Let's do it, then! The weather's right for it and I don't want to work tomorrow."

"Shouldn't you be working since you took today off?"

"I mean, realistically, I should be working all the time, but I don't have to, so I won't." Jim stated. "What are they gonna do? Hire some other supernatural folk hero who knows how to manage their systems?"

"Don't you have to ask me to check your reports to make sure you spell everything right?"

"Fuck off. Private school can only fix so much illiteracy. I'm plenty smart. I'm smart enough to figure out how to get supernatural incidents to plummet in one fell swoop. Not even HELLSING could do that, with all of their fancy experts."

"I know. You're very good at it. I'm proud of you." Ciel's features had gone soft as he sat with a dreamy look on his face. It was clear that he was smitten and that he was definitely pleased with his beau. He sat sideways on the sofa to look at Jim, resting one of his elbows over the back of his seat while resting his cheek in his palm. "Tell me more."

Snickering at the other man's face, Jim answered him, softening his voice. "The biologists we hired helped us make rules and restrictions on how much people can hunt in order to keep Pyestock as self-sustaining as possible."

"Nice. I like it."

"Capitalism is sin, Ciel."

"Okay, maybe that's enough..."

* * *

**A/N: I'm still getting used to writing about nothing again. I've been working on the final arc of the last one for so long, that it just feels wrong, now! I'm also deciding on what I want to write about, too. Basically, I want to write about everything and not have a coherent plot. Is that a thing I can do? Can I just write whatever the hell I feel like? If I want to talk about something completely random and unrelated, would you guys be opposed to that? **

**Do tell me, because I really want to know. Depending on the answer, y'all are gonna HEAR about these fucking side characters...**

**Or read about them, more accurately...**

**As for this chapter, I just wanted to write about their thoughts on things. It's very dialogue-heavy, so you're not getting their full thoughts, but it's enough, for now, I think.  
**

**I'm really interested in the idea of people changing and that also applies to the relationships that they're in, too. Jim and Ciel's relationship has absolutely changed, but that's not a bad thing. It's just a thing. They're more disgustingly in love now than they've ever been, and that's not just because of the love potion, either.**

**I don't really have much else to say, though, so I guess I'll stop here for now.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	9. Craving Lemons

Over and over, Oliver squeezed. He looked down at the open book laying on the coffeetable, while he squeezed the grip strengthener in his left hand. The man was focused, but appeared unprofessional. It was fine, though. Even though he's an officer, even officers get to wear t-shirts and pyjama pants at home. He tore himself away from the book, however, when he heard a sound off to the side of him. There, he saw the guest he was harboring, fully clothed and seemingly ready for the day.

"You're up early." the man noted, even though it was noon. Claire was typically aware at night so that she was awake enough to work if she was called out, so it was indeed odd.

"You're up late." she pointed out right back, observing the man's attire. "You should get into routine."

"I have some time off until the next batch of recruits come in." Oliver stated. "Should be soon, but let me live a little. You should probably do the same, sometime."

"I refuse."

"Immediate answer, huh?" Shaking his head, the man set down his grip strengthener on the table and turned his body to address the woman more directly. "You're out of your routine, though. Is something wrong?"

"Possibly. I don't have full moon arrangements at this stronghold, so I needed to talk to you about how the situation can be handled."

"Oh, right. That's coming up, isn't it?" the man noted, before picking up his book and showing her the cover. It was _The Lycanthrope's Guide To Living_ by Travis Sullivan and P. Ramirez, a popular book aimed at newer werewolves, but popular in both Gehenna and as a handbook for HELLSING staff. "I tried looking up specifics, but they only listed rough food quantity requirements."

"You don't have to read that. I could just tell you."

"I already did. I read it while getting ready for train you and the other faoladh. I thought it would be helpful. I just pulled it back out in case I forgot anything."

Claire arched an eyebrow, looking at the man while expressing slight emotion. While the woman wasn't like Geraldine, who's face was naturally neutral, Claire did her best to appear that way while in front of superiors or inferiors. Emotion was for people who were of equal rank. It was disrespectful, otherwise. She wasn't at all displeased by her discovery, however. If anything, she was impressed. As expected of an officer born of the Midford bloodline, he was prepared.

Placing her hands behind her back and her feed shoulder-width apart, she stood at ease. "I believe the room that I have will be sufficient, when it comes to being able to keeping out of sight, but my concern is access to food. There is a sink in the connected bathroom, so water isn't an issue- although I'll need a good-sized bowl. It's the food that is the issue."

"Right. Transforming takes a lot of calories." Oliver nodded. "Do you think you need a refridgerator? A freezer? Oh! Do you need to prepare the meat, or is raw fine? The book says it is, but I didn't know if you had a preference."

The woman was a bit taken aback by helpful this strange human was being. This wasn't at all what she was used to. Clearing her throat, she said: "I don't want to inconvenience anyone by transporting a large appliance, but I'm afraid that I will need one if I'm going to stay in my room."

"Why can't you just go to the kitchen?"

"You do know what a werewolf is, correct?"

"Yeah, but so does everyone else in the house. I'll just remind them so they won't be surprised."

"No, I don't think you understand." Claire began. "I turn into a large wolf person-" She raised her hand above her head. "About yea big, with large teeth, claws, and lots of fur. It's very scary for humans."

"Geraldine and I have been to Gehenna a few times. We know what supernaturals look like. Besides, I've already seen you wolfed-out, so don't worry about it." Oliver reminded. "If it makes you feel better, though, I can leave it outside your door every hour or so. Do you need a ride to the store?"

"Uh… Well…" The woman did not know how to take this, but did her best to go with the flow. "I can drive, but I don't have a car. Usually, someone from HELLSING gets me when I need to go to work."

"Alright." Oliver said, standing up. "Give me a couple minutes to get dressed and I'll take you. You should probably put on something a little more casual, too, if you have anything. You look a little too '_Game of Thrones'_ for Tesco."

_"'__Game of Thrones?'"_ Claire tilted her head.

"Nevermind. Let me go ask Gerry if you can borrow something from her."

"Sir, I wear an eyepatch… I'm not sure it'll help."

"Hm… Maybe you're right… People will just think you're wearing cosplay."

"Wearing _what?"_

Sometimes, Claire's time in the Midford house was rather dull. Others, it was tense. It was nice to get out of it for a while. She didn't even mind that it was with Oliver, even if only for the reason that he seemed to be the only member of the family that was warm to her. The Marquis was polite, the daughter seemed to have her own problems, and as for the wife, Claire seldom saw her. It was still strange for her to be associating so closely with a former commander of hers, but she had few alternative options.

Understandably, she had a lot to report to her brother in the letter that she sent, updating him on how things were going for her. She always did, however. She was very thorough. Naturally, her sibling offered to allow her to stay with him, but she refused, wanting to be close to headquarters and her people, but also not wanting to intrude on his new life away from violence and hierarchies. It was thoughtful of her, but unnecessary.

Her brother, Farroel Faelad, had very little to report, on the other hand. Well, typical stuff, that could happen to anyone- never the exciting sort of adventures that she often wrote about. No, instead, it was usually about how things were going with the neighbours or new things that he and his husband had discovered while living on their own without any servants to assist them. In fact, the most exciting thing to happen to them in a while occurred as Farroel was seated at his kitchen table, reading his sibling's letter.

All was peaceful. All was well. He sat there, quietly drinking tea while reading the letter. The smell of the drink permeated the air and he sat there, content in his small home in the supernatural city of Pyestock when the quiet was shattered by yelling.

_"__Farroel!"_ a voice called from outside, surprising him. He set down his drink and turned his head to watch the front door. Listening closely, he heard the thumping of footsteps making their way across the front porch. Then, the door abruptly swung open.

"You need to see this!" His husband, Phillip, told him. The black-haired man was obviously angry, but his anger didn't seem to be directed at Farroel, so the faoladh stood up to do what he was told.

"What's wrong?" Farroel questioned, quickly slipping on a pair of shoes before following his spouse outside.

"Our lemon tree!" Phillip exclaimed, stomping across the porch, back down it's steps, and over to the offending plant. "Look at it! It's empty! Someone took our lemons!"

"There's none left?" questioned the wolfman, following him, still. He stopped in front of the tree as well, looking up at it with his hands on his hips. "None at all!"

"No! I've circled it I don't know how many times. Some sorry sod has stolen all of them! I was going to sell them! Lemons are a hot commodity! People use them on all sorts of things, so we would've gotten quite a bit for the whole lot! Bloody bastards..."

"Well, we better call the police, then." Farroel replied, making his way back inside. This time, it was his turn to be followed.

"Wait, we can do that?"

"It's our property. Someone trespassed and stole it. We even lost a profit." Casually, the wolfman stepped a little ways inside the house and plucked the phone off of it's wall-mounted receiver.

Now, phones in Pyestock and Gehenna don't work like they do other places. They only call within the city they're set up in, as to dissuade accidental calls from humans or vice versa. Farroel was able to get through to the police station and explain the situation. It was a quick call. Farroel wasn't as worked up about it as Philip was, but then again, Philip was the one who invested in the tree in the first place. Soon, a Pyestock police officer showed up on horseback, wearing his blue uniform. It was warmer out, so the sleeves were short. Dismounting, his heavy boots thudded against the ground before he casually walked up to the two men waiting on their front porch.

"Hallo! Police department. I understand you have a problem with a lemon theft?" he had an accent, but then again, so did Farroel, only the policeman's wasn't from the United Kingdom. Upon further inspection, he didn't look as human as either of the Faelad's thought. He had a tail like a cow's trailing behind him.

"Yeah. They're gone." Farroel explained so that Philip wouldn't start ranting and raving. His tone was polite and calm, as to keep things as smooth as possible. "It's that tree you walked by right in front of the house. It's nowhere near the property line, so there's no mistaking who it belongs to. My husband was going to sell them, but when he came outside: nothin'! We think somebody probably came up, thought it was okay to pick them, and did."

"They stole them." Philip interrupted.

"Right."

"Well, we've got people down at the market, looking for anybody who doesn't ordinarily sell lemons who now suspiciously have them." The policeman said. "I'd recommend getting a game camera next time, though, just in case. Let me just take a few pictures of the tree- about how many lemons do you think there were?"

"It was almost full of them!" Philip said, folding his arms as he watched the officer pull out a digital camera and start taking pictures.

"Oof… That bad, huh? That's a lot of dandelion salad. We'll look for 'em. We've had a few complaints like this in the area and there's a few names that come up." the officer replied. "I don't know if you'll get your lemons back before something happens to them, but we'll make sure that it's less likely to happen in the future."

After taking his photos, the policeman handed them a clipboard pulled out of one of the bags on his saddle. He had them fill out a report of the incident before he signed off on it and got back on his horse, promising them that an investigation was underway. With that, he rode off to God knows where.

It was the most exciting thing to happen to the Faelads that was worth reporting, but it didn't have a very exciting conclusion. It was in fact a neighbour who tried to sell them at the market. Not all of the lemons were recovered, but enough of them were that the pair did make a small profit from them, keeping a few for themselves, of course.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is dumb lmao. Also rly short, but whatever. Y'all don't need the minute details of this fucking lemon tree. I was just messing around.**

**Sometimes, I have these random ass ideas that I never write about because they're not really important and literally have no effect on anything, but they exist in my brain, so that is what this is. You now know that the former baddies from last fic now have a lemon tree. Do what you will with this knowledge.**

**I could've made this chapter longer by tacking on a much longer segment, I guess, but it's unrelated to any of this and makes more sense as it's own chapter. This would feel tacked on to the beginning of it and be forgotten, so that's why this is so short. Sorry!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	10. Accept My Fist of Love!

This was a very important day. It was a date-day. The two heads of the Phantomhive family had arranged to spend the day together as a couple. That within itself was exciting for the two of them. Now, they go to lunch and go out for dinner frequently enough, but entire days were regular, but monthly affairs. That wasn't all, however. The stakes were even higher than that. On this day, the day that they had chosen to go to the zoo together, Sir Jim Phantomhive was determined not to lose.

Every time it was the same. Ciel would start putting moves on him and he would always get swept up in it. Jim would get flustered, but excited. By the end, the Watchdog wound up using his charms to whip up the menace into a state of frustration. The anticipation of whatever the bluenette was going to do next always got to him, ensuring that he would be subject to the Earls wiles for the entire date and worse, after. Truth be told, the menace always found it incredibly fun and often looked forward to it, but on this day, he was seemingly possessed by a competitive spirit and was determined to not allow the Watchdog to have his way with him. At least, not without a fight. No, this time, Jim was determined that not only would he not get swept up in the moment, he had his sights set on being the one to woo his husband instead! Like his husband, however, he could not start his process when the date officially began. No, in fact, his battle began when getting ready for the day! It began more specifically, with one choice:

"V-neck, or patterned button up?" the menace pondered to himself. He wanted his spouse to get a peek of his collarbones, either way, but knows that Ciel likes to see him dressed up. That alone eliminated the V-neck from his options, but that left him with another problem. "What pattern?"

It had to be a fun pattern, or else Ciel would get suspicious or think something was wrong. He was sharp like that. Very few changes in the blonde's demeanor got past him. He was as sharp as a hidden blade and as merciless as a beat-down with brass knuckles. With that thought, Jim recalled that he had a shirt with brass knuckles on it and mentally added it to his options.

"He said 'wild.'" he thought, carefully scrutinising the shirts. "He likes it that I'm 'wild...'"

Ultimately, the menace narrowed it down to two options: the black shirt with orange brass knuckles, or a green shirt with yellow tigers. His senses were telling him that the tiger shirt was the correct option. It was the zoo, after all. It was perfectly appropriate. Yet, it also presented the menace with a rather cruel conundrum. Was it cute or was it lame?

Themed shirts when going places are cute to some people. Would it be cute on him? Jim knew that it was a bit tourist-y, but wasn't that the point of going to a zoo? The only people who weren't "tourists" there were the animals, so technically, so long as he coordinated it wisely, it would be fine- unless of course, he is mistaken, and it is actually cringey for a grown man to go around wearing a shirt that matches the "zoo" theme in order to try and be cute. He thought it was fun, but would Ciel think so?

Ultimately, he went with his gut and picked the shirt he was leaning toward, but perhaps more importantly, it was the one he wanted to wear because he liked it. There were even more decisions to make still, however. Which cologne was he going to wear? How much? There were things that were obvious, like wearing a watch that his husband had given to him, but then, he had to wonder what weapons he could use to woo the other man. Would he find resources at the zoo? What was available to him? What could he gather quickly? It was especially difficult, as the bluenette was also ducking in and out of the dressing room and bathroom in order to get ready, himself. All the while, however, the Watchdog was ignorant to the fact that he was about to step directly into a battle.

As always, Ciel cleaned up well. He smelled good, he was neat, and he was pleasant to look at. As Jim was admiring him, he saw an opening. The bluenette had his back turned and was focusing on his reflection. The Watchdog wanted to make sure his appearance was in order, especially since he wasn't used to dressing casually. Granted, it was still a shirt with a collar, but it had blue vertical stripes and had the top button undone. The scandal! He was busily debating on whether or not to roll up his sleeves. Ciel thought it would look better, but had scars on his arms that he thought might not be a good idea to have out. It was bad enough he wore an eyepatch. The Earl could practically hear some snot-nosed little brat telling their parents that he looked like a bad guy or that he was scary or asking them why he was wearing it. It was annoying at best, but sort of a mood killer when on a date.

"Oh! I don't see you wear that often!" Jim observed as he approached the bluenette. He stood to the man's left, so Ciel could see him while his right hand was raised behind Ciel's back. He placed two of his fingertips- that of his middle and ring finger- on the Earl's shoulderblade, and drew a diagonal line down to the middle of Ciel's spine. It was a classic move employed by none other than Ciel, himself! This time, however, it was not he who made the first strike. It was Jim!

The blonde knew that he had to be careful, however. This strategy relied on subtlety. If he got too greedy, he could move too fast and fail to build the heat gradually. Fortunately, however, the menace already had the advantage. Not only did he make the first strike, he had put himself in a dominant position! A hand on the back is indicative of a desire to both protect and guide someone. Jim obtained control right away! Still, he paused at the middle of the Earl's back and did not dare to move lower just yet. He had to be patient. He had to be calculating. He had to be focused.

"It looks good on you!" he continued. He paused, giving his beau room to answer.

"Oh, really? You think so?" Ciel answered with his own inquiry, but that was exactly what Jim had anticipated, thus activating the blonde's trap!

"Yeah!" the menace stated. Letting go of the other Phantomhive, he reached up and gently tugged a few locks of hair on the back of the bluenette's head. His touch was light, allowing the locks to slip between his index finger and thumb with ease. "It's a good colour for you. It's fun, but it also brings out the blue of your eyes and hair. You look pretty."

A brutal barrage right out of the gate! While Ciel was distracted by Jim's right hand, the menace was able to sneak in another blow, turning the Watchdog's cheeks a light pink!

"You think so?" the Earl asked. "I'll wear it more often, then." The effectiveness of the Lion's barrage was locked in! That said, as the bluenette turned his head, he returned an effective strike, himself. His face softened at the sight of his beau and his eye smiled along with his mouth. "You look really handsome, too. I like that outfit on you a lot."

How dangerous! It was like a gentle light radiated from the man, warming the heart of the blonde the moment he was exposed to it! This was bad! Jim knew that he needed to recover quickly, lest the fluttering of his heart completely overwhelm him! He knew that he needed to think quickly. Quickly!

"Really? I was worried if it seemed a bit busy." the blonde said, letting go of his spouse once more before finally taking a step back. It was a strategic retreat, however, as he attacked from a distance. The Lion did a twirl for his beau, giving his fellow demon a good look from a few different angles. Ciel continued to smile at him, only this time, it grew brighter as he was pleased with the blonde's actions. This was a dangerous battle, indeed, and all of this was without the bluenette even being aware he was fighting! The danger only escalated when Ciel approached.

"It's not busy. The bright colours suit you." Placing a hand on Jim's hip, Ciel gently turned him slightly to face the bluenette's direction. It was a bold move on Ciel's part, but was heightened when the bluenette leaned in to quickly place a kiss against the blonde's lips. "You're gorgeous."

While the menace had a strong start, it appeared to him that he had lost the first round. He soon found himself escorted out to the car. Fine. He still had time to reassess. Backing out of the garage, he set out with his husband for the day, all the while reevaluating his plan for attack. It appeared as though he needed to be a little more aggressive if he hoped to truly faze the Watchdog. That was alright. Sir Jim Phantomhive was perfectly capable of being aggressive.

Their conversation on the way there wasn't very eventful, however. They mostly talked about what all they wanted to do and see. There were lions, so they definitely had to see them, and there were entire arctic and rainforest exhibits. There was a butterfly house, which sounded fun, along with reptiles and primates. Jim almost forgot his mission a few times because got excited about how much fun they were going to have. He kept pulling himself back again, however. He had to stay focused.

They exited the car and immediately joined hands as they walked up to the front. With his free hand, Jim held onto his beau's bicep, allowing the Watchdog to walk slightly in front. He let go, however, forcing his hand into his pocket at the speed of sound before pulling out his wallet when it was time to pay for admission.

"I got this." he insisted, handing the clerk his card before Ciel could.

"Such a gentleman." teased the bluenette with a smile.

That was one of the things people who weren't in or interested in same-sex relationships ask about sometimes. "Who pays?" The answer depends on the couple and the situation, really. It's perfectly sensible for both parties to pay their own way, but the menace had his own thoughts.

"I invited you." he said as the two of them passed the counter and advanced to the actual entrance of the zoo. "I might not have billionaire status, but I can treat you, too, sometimes."

"Oh, Jimmy, you're simply too much man for me." Ciel laughed, but this was good for the blonde. Even if he didn't have the masculine status that the move would permit in the eyes of lesser and foolish men, Jim recognised it's true perk. The bluenette was endeared to him, finding his insistence cute- a perfectly valid approach. "Where should we go, first?"

Ciel still gave Jim the reigns. The Watchdog was chivalrous, you see. He did not want to bore his beloved by dragging him hither and fro to parts that disinterested the menace. Naturally, Jim took his chance, hooking his arm around Ciel's and placing both hands on the other Phantomhive's bicep once more. He pulled the bluenette close so that their arms were touching.

"I dunno." he said. "I was thinking we just do a loop and see where we end up."

"Sounds good to me." answered the Watchdog. There was a light blush on his cheeks from having such a pretty man on his arm, but he kept a steady head. "Gorillas are right in front of us. How about there?"

"Sure!" Immediately, Jim agreed, prompting them both to advance. On the way, they saw a few enclosures with tropical birds and a few with smaller primates- lemurs, spidermonkeys, and the like. The entire time, however, Jim couldn't shake a thought and as they finally reached the gorillas, it grew increasingly stronger before reaching it's peak at the sight at the massive apes.

"Ciel..." he began.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever thought that we might face some lunatic someday who's gonna sic some weird-ass animal on us?" the menace asked, his tone serious. It caught the other man completely off guard, forcing him to laugh.

"Seriously?"

"I'm serious! There's some nut-jobs out there! We're gonna end up kicking the shit out of a Bond villain one day, but before we do, he's gonna send his super intelligent, machine-gun monkeys on us."

"Well… it is trendy for druglords and dictators to have exotic pets, so you're probably right. I'm just amazed that that is the first thing that you thought of..."

"Rest in fucking pieces, Harambe."

"_Jim!_"

The feeling persisted as they continued, however. The aquarium had sharks. The reptile house had venomous snakes. All of them felt like they could be part of a trap that they could feasibly wind up in, although both of them were certain that it wouldn't be difficult to escape from. As both of them joked about it, Jim forgot what he was doing and simply let loose and had fun. He kept putting on an obnoxiously fake Australian twinge while the two of them looked at kangaroos and emus. While the man had mastered received pronunciation, but he simply didn't have the practise for that, it seemed. Eventually, however, they came across the crowning glory of a stereotypical kingpin's pet collection.

_"'__Can you LEAP like a tiger?_'" Jim read aloud, mocking the playful little sign near the tiger enclosure. "Ciel, watch me jump the fence."

"Do not jump the fence." the bluenette said.

"Watch me." the menace said with a wicked grin, looking over his shoulder as he jokingly pressed his palms against the wooden fence. "I'm gonna go wrestle Tigger."

"No."

"Gonna wrestle 'im. Put 'im in a headlock."

"Jim, please… They're endangered." Ciel half-heartedly implored, prompting the menace to step away from the fence with an exaggerated eyeroll.

"Fine, I guess I won't, then..." Snickering, he kept walking until he reached the glass window that peered into the enclosure, all the while muttering under his breath. "The tops are made out of rubber, the bottoms are made out of springs..."

"Are you sure you're a lion? Right now I have you pinned more as a tiger."

"How _very _dare you, Ciel? Do I look like a tiger to you? Where are my stripes, Ciel?"

"On your shirt."

"Fuck you, asshole."

"Language. There's kids around."

"Frick you, butthole."

Still, the menace enthusiastically peered through the grass and watched the big cats laze about in the sun. Although, seeing such lazy tigers reminded the Watchdog of something, but he couldn't figure out what. Their eyes were closed. Their mouths were in a small smile. They looked comfortable, but what was he thinking of?

"Hey, Ciel, you okay? You look really serious..."

"Huh?" the bluenette asked as his attention was taken away. "Isn't that how I always look?"

"Yeah, but you seem a bit moreso than usual."

"I'm okay. Just... thinking about tiger stripes."

Letting out a short puff of air, Jim smiled. "They're great, aren't they? They break up their shape in the jungle so they can blend in. Saw it in a documentary once..."

That's it! That right there! That's what Ciel was thinking of! That cat-like face of the blonde's was extremely cute, but Ciel recalled how the menace liked to laze around the house on days off sometimes. He always sat on couches in a way that took ownership of the entire seat, but he always looked so peaceful, especially when he fell asleep! Even the way Jim's eyes got a little smaller as his cheeks were pushed upwards by his grin looked like a cat smiling with closed eyes! Truly, it was too much for the Watchdog to bear.

"Cute..." the bluenette absent-mindedly said. It felt like his heart was melting in his chest as he was immediately soothed by the look on his beloved's face.

"Yeah, I like tigers, but I still like lions, better."

"No, you're cute." Ciel clarified, reaching down to hold on to the blonde's hand. "You look like you're having fun."

"I am!" Jim said, raising their joined hands together and bringing the back of Ciel's to his lips. He placed a kiss against it, before talking against his knuckles. "I'm glad we came together. And that you put up with my silliness."

Blushing, the bluenette answered. "You're not that silly..."

"Oh, no. I'm very silly. I acknowledge that fact about myself." Pulling their hands away from his mouth, he held them up to Ciel's view. "How big do you think tiger paws are? Way bigger than this?"

Chuckling, the Earl smiled back. "Yeah. Way bigger. Probably bigger than your hand with your fingers all the way out. And that's not even counting their claws. They retract, like a regular cat's."

"Really?!"

"Really."

"Then I'll have to be careful of that when I wrestle one."

"Be careful with endangered species, please."

They eventually moved on to less endangered species, venturing toward farm animals and the like. There were pigs, there were goats, and a petting zoo for the kids, although adults clearly enjoyed feeding and petting the animals, too. Jim certainly did. Ciel, on the other hand, had less luck.

"Here, Ciel!" the menace instructed, placing some food in Ciel's palms. "Try feeding them, too. Just let them eat out of your hand."

Although he was hesitant, the bluenette did what he was told, and bent his knees slightly so that the animals could reach. "Like this?" he questioned, but despite them being rather close to him, initially, the goats turned the other way and began walking. The Phantomhive made a careful attempt to try again, but yielded the same result. It was embarrassing enough that the animals were clearly avoiding him, but it was even worse that a few of the children and parents around him actually took notice.

"They don't like that bad guy." one small child noted before promptly having his mouth covered by his mother.

"Shh! Don't say stuff like that!" the woman hissed, before turning to the demons. "I'm sorry about him."

"It's okay!" Jim replied for the bluenette while the Watchdog straightened his legs and back again. The blonde crouched down a little himself and addressed the kid directly. "He's not a bad man. He's really nice! Eyepatches don't mean someone is bad, okay?"

"Okay." the little boy half-heartedly replied, but before Jim could turn around and console his beau, Ciel had already allowed the foot pellets to fall loosely from his hand, giving up on the endeavor before walking away.

"Ciel?" the blonde called. "Hey, Ciel!"

Jim had to pursue him before meeting up with him again at a small station for washing hands. He found the other Phantomhive silently scrubbing his palms. Instead of addressing him right away, the blonde took the small faucet next to the man and began cleaning his own hands.

"You know he didn't mean it, right?" Jim eventually offered, breaking the silence. "He's probably only seen eyepatches in movies."

"I know. It's alright." the Watchdog finally said. "I know I look scary and I've never been all that great with animals. Don't worry about it."

To that, the menace didn't really know how to respond. Sure, the bluenette didn't have the most inviting appearance to strangers, but to Jim? He was always approachable. He was always smiling and laughing. He made jokes and he was extremely kind and caring. Sure, he had a look that was meant to be intimidating, sometimes, but Jim liked that part of the Watchdog, too. Ciel had expressed some discontentment with his appearance on very rare occasions, but hearing that when his emotions were already high? It was a low blow and Jim knew it. The menace was standing to the bluenette's right, so the other man's eye was covered, but he could still see the redness of his face. Ciel was humiliated.

"I like the way you look." the Lion declared. "Even when you're trying to be scary, I think you're handsome, but your normal face is, too. You're also cute and pretty, too, so… Ugh!"

It was so easy to smooth-talk when the person didn't matter! Why was it so hard when he did? Aggressively, Jim shook his hands of access water before rubbing them on his pants legs. His own cheeks were pink as he hastily dried them enough to attack the other man with a big hug. It startled the Watchdog, but he felt like he couldn't force the other off of himself because his hands were still wet.

"Jim! We're in public!" he blurted out, but his beau didn't care.

"So? I'm trying to comfort you! I suck at mushy speeches, but I can do this!" Jim said, burying his face in the other man's chest while onlookers passed them by. "You're handsome! Good-looking! I like your eyes and your hair! You have pretty eyelashes, too! Your jaw is manly and your lips are soft! I like your earrings and I like your face!"

"J-Jim!" Ciel's face was burning at this point and he was still embarrassed, but it didn't feel terrible. Even if a few onlookers smiled at their display, he was too distracted by Jim and the nice things he was saying to dwell on it.

"Hug me back!" commanded the menace, snapping the bluenette from his slight daze.

"Uh… My hands are wet..." pointed out the Watchdog, still holding them above his head.

_"__Hug me back!" _repeated the menace, squeezing his husband tighter. "I'll kick your ass!"

Threatened by an affectionate kick from his spouse, Ciel did as he was told. He wrapped his arms around the menace, accepting his fate and bending to his beloved's will. There was a slight pause, followed by the blonde making an observation.

"Your hands are wet..." he said.

"I just told you that..." his husband said right back.

Pulling away slightly, Jim faced his beau, keeping his arms around his middle. "I really mean it, though. I love you and I think you're really good-looking. Don't trust the opinion of a six-year-old and a few goats. You should trust me."

"Trust you and your fists of love?"

"Yes." grinned the Lion, prompting the other man to finally crack a smile as well. Then, Ciel chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"You threatened to beat me up over that..." Ciel said, finally laughing as the two parted. "Are you serious?"

"I'll beat the shit out of your sadness and self-consciousness, darling. It's my job."

"Why are you so interested in fighting everything today, anyway?" Ciel tilted his head lightly as he watched his beau's face heat up.

"Ah… Well..." The menace averted his eyes in a way that looked incredibly suspicious. "That's a secret."

"Wait, what is that? What is that for? Jim? What are you up to?"

"It's a secret."

Yes, the menace had killing intent that day. He was going to destroy any obstacles in his way and woo his beloved. He was fired up and ready to go, but somehow, when he got like this, it felt like he needed to actually fight something. He wasn't used to manipulating people he liked like this- only people he intended to obliterate.

How fitting was it, then, when they came upon a coliseum-like structure when they approached the lions' enclosure. Immediately, when Ciel saw it, he thought: "Is Jim going to fight all of the lions right now? Is that how this works? Does that make him the leader of the pride?"

"Hey, Ciel! Look at this!" his beau called out to him, pulling him back out of his thoughts of the menace becoming the king of the ring. "Check this out!"

On the biggest wall, there was a mural of two lions, mimicking the artwork of ancient Rome. Somehow, the menace seemed incredibly proud of it. His smile was infectious and before either of them really registered it, the sound of the camera in the Watchdog's phone taking a picture prompted the menace's attention.

"Taking creepshots, huh?" Jim jokingly accused.

"Ah, well… I haven't updated my wallpaper in a while and it looked like a good photo op." Ciel confessed, raising his eyebrows as he witnessed the excitement visibly grow on his husband's face.

"We should take a one together!" he declared, pulling out his own phone and beckoning his spouse to stand beside him. The bluenette was obviously hesitant, but knew that he might get a better picture of his husband if he cooperated.

"Alright..." he said, once again doing what he was told. He stood next to the menace, who opened up the front camera on his phone and held it out while placing his free hand in the small of Ciel's back. It was like a jolt of electricity shot through him, causing him to jump.

"You okay?" the menace asked, noticing his beau's discomfort, but Ciel quickly calmed down.

"I'm fine." Ciel answered, putting on hand in his pocket while wrapping his opposite arm around the other man's shoulders. "Go ahead."

"Alright, then… In one, two, three..." On the next beat, Jim hit the button before lowering the phone so both of them could see the result. "Oh! That's a really good one, Ciel!" he declared before excitedly showing his spouse the image. "You've gotten way better at smiling in pictures! This is really cute!"

With raised eyebrows, the Earl examined the screen. Jim was right! It was probably one of the better pictures of Ciel that even Ciel himself could agree on. The lighting wasn't great, but the smile was there!

"It is..." the Watchdog replied, his eye wandering to his husband in the image. Still, Jim looked even cuter, as always.

"I'll send it to you." the menace said before fiddling with the device and sure enough, Ciel felt his own vibrate in his pocket. Checking it, he smiled. He tried to replace his wallpaper with it discreetly, but his husband grinned wildly, already knowing. Both of them turned their heads, however, when they heard a loud roar.

One of the male lions in the enclosure had taken to making sound. It wasn't as fearsome as the roar of a tiger- it was more guttural, but it was also insanely loud. Jim shot his husband a look, as if warning him before taking his hand and dragging him over to see the animals. Jim let go of his beau in order to grip onto the rail and lean over it as he stared through the fence. Taking in a deep breath, he filled his lungs completely before letting it all out again.

"RRROOOAAARRRR!" the menace let out, causing his husband to laugh. Pausing, Jim waited, watching as the animal in front of him turned its head to face him. Then, it took a breath and roared back. Jim was incredibly enthusiastic about this, as he went off again.

Truly, it was an amazing sight. Jim was a grown man, roaring at a real, honest-to-God lion, and somehow, he got it to roar back at him. A few of the other zoo guests who saw the display laughed, especially the children, who also roared a handful of times, but none of them captured the lion's attention more than the Lion of Gehenna.

"Truly, you've found where you belong, Jim." Jested the Watchdog. "I'll come back to visit you as often as I can."

"Gotta show 'im who's boss, now, befo- why are you recording me?!" demanded the menace.

"Because you're cute." Ciel stated, peeking over his phone at the blonde with a smile. "Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Well, you're not going to get anything good. Those lions are protected by a fence and I don't feel like getting in trouble with zoo staff. I'm a responsible adult now, Ciel, not a delinquent."

Lowering his phone, Ciel put it back in his pocket. "You're a little bit of a delinquent, but that's more of a perk than a fault."

"I'm a responsible delinquent." Jim stated, letting go of the railing to hold onto his husband's hand. "A downright upstanding n'er-do-well."

"Indeed." the bluenette nodded. "But you still shouldn't fight the animals."

"I could always fight you."

"No, I don't really feel up for it."

"Why? You scared?" questioned the menace, leaning over to rest his chin on his husband's shoulder in a playful fashion.

"No, I just don't want to fight you, right now. I'd rather do other things."

"Oh, really? Like what?"

The Earl paused, shooting the baronet a look that silently informed Jim that he knew damn well what Ciel was talking about. Jim acknowledged it by smiling wickedly, but of course, the menace waited for the bluenette to come up with a euphemism instead of continuing the conversation himself.

"Ancient Greek wrestling..." Ciel finally stated.

"Ooh! I'll kick your ass!"

The blonde's plan was nearly forgotten by this point. He had set out to woo his spouse, but got lost in how much fun he was having to do it. He refocused himself, however, as they continued on. Along the way to the next exhibit, the menace spotted an opportunity. It was a small stand offering snacks and drinks, and while others may not recognise the chance presented as such, he did, getting both of them a drink, but being sure to get a different flavour from the bluenette's.

"Is the novelty cup really necessary?" the Watchdog inquired with a raised eyebrow. "Are you ever going to use it again?"

"Of course I will! Not everybody has to drink out of plain glasses and fancy china, Ciel. Besides, it has my mascot on it." Jim stated before taking a drink from his overpriced cup.

"It's called a 'moniker.'"

"Whatever it is, I bet yours can't turn your tongue purple." the menace declared before sticking out his tongue. True to his word, it was indeed purple, with the Ciel's diabolic signature still showing through in bold black. Somehow, seeing that pleased the Watchdog. Not even a frozen drink could conceal it.

"No, but I'm not sure if I really mind."

"Either way, you're tongue's gonna be blue." the blonde informed as the bluenette continued to drink, himself. "Hey, can I try yours?"

"Hm? Sure." Nonchalantly, the Watchdog held his mysterious, ambiguously flavoured drink out for the menace to take, but Jim didn't take his offer. Instead, the blonde leaned over and put his mouth around the straw while his beau was still holding the cup. When the menace pulled away, a small strand of spit clung to the drink before the menace licked his lips.

"Yeah, I have no idea what flavour that is." Jim said, standing upright again. He brought his own straw to his lips, but didn't take a drink yet. That was his plan. Draw as much attention to his mouth as possible. It was a long shot, but it was all the menace had at the moment. To his surprise, despite the Watchdog jutting out his chin a bit to look tough, the light pink hue of his cheeks betrayed him. Too bad for Ciel. His weakened state made him vulnerable to even slight movements on the blonde's part. "It's just 'blue' flavoured."

Shifting his gaze, Ciel stared at his own straw for a moment before taking another drink. As he did, his cheeks darkened even further upon noticing that the blonde's gaze was locked on him as well. "Ah," the menace said, "your tongue touched it first."

Letting go of the straw, Ciel coughed. He choked on his drink and the coldness of it somehow made it worse. Hunching over, he cleared his airway while his husband gently patted him on the back.

"What the hell, Jim?!"

"What? I just noticed that you don't grab it with your lips first. You set the end on your tongue." Jim replied plainly. "Just an observation, Ciel. Chill."

"Whatever..." the bluenette replied.

"You wanna try a taste of mine?"

"No..."

"That's a first..."

"You-!" Ciel didn't have anything he could shout at the menace that was appropriate for a public space, but also, since the menace was toeing the line, Ciel couldn't quite catch him in a vulgar statement. It simply looked as thought Ciel was overrating. In a way, he was, but he was sensitive at the moment. The menace had him trapped by social convention! What a cruel entanglement to inflict on his spouse!

The bluenette thought, however. He thought of a way to twist it in his favour. Alas, he had nothing. His mind was drawing a blank! Although he was so brilliant previously when he saved their mutual friend's engagement, Ciel's mind was fuzzy and all he could think about was his husband.

"Should we keep going, or are you not done with your episode, yet?" Jim questioned.

"I'm not having any kind of episode. You know damn well what's happening." Ciel replied, opting the direct approach by calling the blonde out. Without hesitation, the menace simply took a sip of his drink before poking his bottom lip with his straw.

"Well, yeah. That's kind of the point, isn't it?" He didn't dodge! Much to the bluenette's lament, that was simply the way Jim was. He was perfectly willing to take a blow if it meant striking his opponent with even greater lethality in retaliation and Jim went straight for the throat. "I mean, it is a date, isn't it?"

"You're a monster..."

"Nah. I just make you feel things and that embarrasses you." the menace stated, smirking with a slight tilt of his head. "It's cute."

Somehow, he managed to stare down at the bluenette despite Ciel being slightly taller than him. A chuckle bubbled from his throat as he watched his bluenette wage war against himself. As embarrassed as Ciel was and as much as he wanted to deny the menace for his trickery, the Earl was still head over heels for his beloved and was strangely attracted to the other man's deviousness. Furrowing his brow, the Watchdog huffed, reaching out to the blonde. He wrapped his free arm around Jim's shoulders and gripped the menace firmly.

"If you think that you're going to get the better of me, you're sorely mistaken." Ciel warned. His face was serious, as if he had rebuilt his impenetrable wall of mental fortitude that would protect him from further onslaughts. "I will not allow it."

"You're a bit late on that, my love." retorted the menace, turning his head and leaning into the other Phantomhive so that he was close enough for the other man to feel his sweet breath brushing against his lips. "I already have."

Reaching up with his free hand, the menace gently lifted Ciel's off of his shoulder with little difficulty before twirling out of his beloved's grasp, yet remained connected to him by his own. With a smile, he tugged on the bluenette's hand, beckoning him to follow him. "Come on." Jim instructed. "I want to see some butterflies."

How could Ciel deny that request? The way the menace outmaneuvered him while still keeping control sent a shiver down his spine. Even after all of this time, it still surprised the Earl that he liked this. He admired the blonde's skill in everything, of course, but he was also the only one who Ciel actually found enjoyment in giving in to. It was true without the interference of any potion and it was certainly true as the Watchdog found himself dragged along the path to the butterfly house. Fulfilling Jim's whims made him happy, so even though he was bested, he wasn't upset.

He stared at the back of that blonde head as they walked. Jim's hair looked soft. Ciel knew it was soft. Occasionally, the wind would blow in just the right direction for the Watchdog to get a whiff of his husband's shampoo and sometimes, Jim would look over his shoulder and smile as he caught Ciel looking back. The Watchdog's heart fluttered. His husband's hand was soft and warm. He squeezed it tighter.

"I really want to kiss him." he thought, letting out a sigh through his nose. The thought only increased after they arrived at the butterfly house and walked inside.

It was warm inside and slightly humid. Plants filled every inch of ground along the sides of the patch, save for a small waterfall in the center of the glass building. Light poured into the room and the men could see butterflies flying freely and landing wherever they pleased. Occasionally, they would land on people including Jim, who was giggling the whole time.

Ciel simply watched after him with a smile on his face. The blonde was a golden ray of sunshine that made Ciel's chest feel warm. He loved this. He loved Jim. "I want to kiss him!" he thought. The compulsion persisted and simply would not leave him be!

"Ah!" the bluenette suddenly let out, quickly walking toward the menace. "Jim, watch out!"

"What?" his beau asked, turning slightly to look back at him. Ciel pointed down at the blonde's feet, alerting his attention to a small, bright blue butterfly on the ground.

"You almost stepped on it."

Staring down at the insect, Jim pondered it for a moment. Soon after, however, he slowly bent down before gently picking it up. The butterfly didn't fly away, however. It sat still on Jim's finger before taking a few steps across his knuckles. With a smile, Jim turned to his beau and gently coaxed the butterfly onto his husband's shirt.

"There." the blonde contently stated, glad that it didn't fly away from Ciel, either.

It crawled onto the bluenette's chest and fluttered its wings, but Ciel only briefly acknowledged it. It fluttered, fluttered, and fluttered; then, the Watchdog reached out and held on to his husband's hand. Ciel paid no mind to the butterfly anymore and instead honed his focus on the man in front of him.

"I love you, Jim." he said, his tone sounding almost defeated. "You're so cute, I can hardly stand it. It isn't fair. It isn't fair at all."

"I didn't do anything, though?" the blonde answered with an arched eyebrow.

"You don't have to." The butterfly fluttered and took to the air before landing on Jim's shirt, still fluttering it's wings. "All you have to do is exist."

A light pink dusted the other Phantomhive's cheeks as the butterfly flew away. Seizing the oppurtunity, Ciel let go of Jim's hand and reached up to move a lock or flaxen hair to rest behind the menace's ear before cupping his cheek. Jim's skin was soft but so was Ciel's touch.

"I love you." the Watchdog said again before giving in to his impulse to kiss his beloved. He kept enough of a hold on himself not to kiss him in exactly the way that he wanted to, but this small taste was enough to satiate him for now. The menace, however, was not content and was left wanting more as his husband pulled away. He leaned in a little ways, refusing to break the kiss until he was able to accept his fate. That moment of weakness, however, proved to be a misstep in his plan- or perhaps it was beneficial?- Ciel, of course, noticed and offered Jim a knowing smile.

"Who is getting the better of whom, now?" Ciel playfully questioned, only for the menace to lightly hit him in the chest with his fist.

"I am!" Jim declared. "I'm the one who made you do that!"

"Perhaps we're simply too evenly matched?" the Watchdog suggested, snaking his hand around so that it was touching the other man's back with the deadly five-finger palm. "Perhaps we're simply too infatuated with each other?"

"No! I won't accept a draw!" protested the menace with furrowed brow, a deep blush, and a frown. "I will beat you! I will drive you crazy and I will come out on top!"

"Oh?" questioned the Watchdog with a sinister smile and a tilt of his head. Just from the sound of Ciel's voice, Jim knew that he had revealed too much about his intentions. _"Is that so?"_

A shudder ran down the blonde's spine as his husband kneaded his fingertips into his back. His only hope after that was that the arctic exhibit would somehow cool Ciel down, but alas, it only gave him an excuse to cling harder to the menace. In a way, Jim had one the duel. He had successfully driven his husband up the wall, but at what cost? It was a bittersweet victory, but a victory, nonetheless?

* * *

**A/N: Alas, poor Jim... We knew him well...**

**This took longer than I thought it would. I got stalled in a few places and had to walk away for a lil bit, but we got here. I don't really have anything to talk about, though. Y'all know what happened. Y'all know what's up.**

**The title is named after a gay-ass manga I like, so there's that. Other than that, that's it for this round, I guess?**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	11. Trying To Make A Living

The weather was pleasant, although the sky was slightly overcast over London and all was peaceful in the city for the time being. There were the typical supernatural incidents, sure, but nothing that couldn't be handled. They seemed so far away. They had been far away for two women in a certain cheap apartment for a few months, now, ever since the battle at Buckingham Palace in January.

Spring was meant to be the season that brought forth new life, but one would have to squint to see it with those two. Due to their status as unwilling participants who sat on the sidelines of the battle due to their unwilling association with the terrible Abhartach, they were not executed or given a lengthy prison sentence. One of them was the daughter of the tyrant, Evangeline, and the other was his captive, turned "lover," Sasha Pomeroy.

Neither of them were all that pleased with their fall from the high life, but with Sasha being the last of her family that didn't make their wages for the purpose of war, she was able to inherit all that was in her father's and her siblings' account. It was more than enough for both her and Evangeline to live on for a while, but they knew that eventually, it would run out and it was wise for them to use this time to build up their own careers so that they would live comfortably for a good while. At least Sasha did.

Miss Pomeroy knew better than to go back to her family's shady business after these events. The message she received from both HELLSING and the Lion of Phantomhive was clear as crystal. From then on, she promised herself that she would live a straight-edge life, although she was starting it off as a young, single mother, she knew that she could still do it. That was why she was at her computer, trying to figure out her next move. Evangeline, however, was less enthused.

She was still not convinced that her father was in the wrong. Her head was still full of thoughts of what was and what could have been. She could have been the princess of the United Kingdom and the commonwealth. She could have kept her riches and become richer still. Alas, she was now a nobody who was unemployed with no savings and living in a cramped apartment with a woman who was expecting- the woman who would be mother to Evangeline's half-sibling.

It wasn't the worst-case scenario, certainly, but Evangeline did not want to hear the baby cry, nor did she want to sacrifice her pride and be forced to do some menial labour in order to support herself. She was the daughter of Abhartach! She was the daughter of a legend! Still, she herself was an ordinary human being. She was not immortal. She didn't even have clearance to participate in the supernatural world any longer. She couldn't even see her father's tree, which had been relocated from its place outside of Buckingham Palace and moved to the gardens of the Hellsing Estate. It wasn't fair.

Her brother had clearance to live in Pyestock among the supernaturals, given his marriage to one. She received letters from him, sometimes, telling her about how things are going and what he knew about the remainder of events. The Lexington family lost their place in the aristocracy and had their land confiscated, although the incubi and succubi followed behind their de facto leader, an incubus called "Caroline," and tried to make home in Gehenna and Pyestock. They did not know the ways of their kind there, however, leading to some tension and some eventually disappearing to London. He told her about what happened to the Faoladh and the Whelan family, and admittedly, she was a bit miffed that she did not hear it from Farroel or even Claire, first. She thought they were at least friends, but she supposed not, now. At least she had Sasha. Sasha was her friend.

Although, Sasha could be rather tedious, as well. There she was, at her computer, spouting some nonsense about finding work or getting an education. She yanked Evangeline from her very important windowside brooding with an idea.

"Okay, how about this:" Sasha began, "I'm thinking I either to uni for art, or for estate management. Which do you think it better?"

"Those are wildly different and I'm not sure what you want to do with either one." Evangeline replied.

"Well, art sounds fun. I'm not very good, but that's kind of the point in going, right?" the other woman explained. "I'd also like to be able to know how to sell off some of my dad's old stuff I don't want. I don't need his cars. I don't need his other houses. I don't want them and they're too expensive to maintain. I was thinking I could get into real estate or something. That makes money."

"Do whatever you want. I don't know… I don't even know what I could do. Sitting around the house all day is boring..."

"Well, if you haven't found anything after the baby is born, then I could always pay you to be a nanny. Get you some experience in childcare."

"I will look after my sibling, but I refuse to work in childcare as a profession. I am not a nanny."

"Well, you need to find something." Sasha said. "What are you interested in? There has to be something."

"I was taught in all of the accomplishments. I can embroider, I can sew, I'm well-versed in literature, I can arrange flowers… I can do a lot of things."

"So be a seamstress or a florist."

"What?"

"Those are both jobs you already know how to do. You can go get them like, right now." Miss Pomeroy informed before beckoning the other woman over to her with her hand. "Come here. Let's look right now. Which one do you want to look for first?"

Hesitantly, Evangeline answered. "Florist?" she didn't sound sure. Still, she stood up and did what she was told while Sasha typed into the search bar. Hitting enter, Miss Pomeroy gestured at the screen.

"There you are! Five entire shops looking for work, and this is just the first page!" Sasha stated. "This one's close. Let's look at it."

"Is it really that easy?" questioned Evangeline, looking uncertain about this. "You said that you want to go to school. Do I need to do that?"

"Uh… No, I don't think so. They don't list it as a qualification. The hard part will be making a resume… That goes for both of us." Looking up at her friend, Sasha seemed serious. "We have no work experience. We don't even have teachers who can give us references. We'll have to do something else."

"Like… Like what?" The expression on Sasha's face made Evangeline nervous.

"Well, the internet says volunteer work is good, so we should probably sign up to do that. Do you like animals? Wait, on second thought… You won't want to clean up after them… Well how about- I mean, food banks are good, but you might have to talk to poor people."

"Right now, I am a poor person, so I don't have much right to complain..."

The two continued their search, hoping that fortune would soon smile upon them, but they were not the only young women looking for what they wanted to do with their lives. In the land where they were forbidden to go, Samantha Westley was stuck with a similar conundrum. She was the only one of her trio of friends without certainty. Revy already had a job at HELLSING, trolling conspiracy theorists on the internet, and Geraldine was a professional fencer who had already won both national and international titles. And who was Samantha?

She did have an idea of what she wanted to do, but it wasn't something that had been done before. She wanted to archive the history of supernatural beings and had already made headway with the incomplete tome that her mentor, Baldassare, had left her. She wanted to write down their history and make it accessible to them, but how? What does she study for that?

Naturally, she applied to universities in order to learn to study history, but she knew that once she had learned those basics, she would have to practically invent her own methods. She had applied to schools both domestic and abroad and was accepted to most of them, even Harvard and Oxford, but she knew that this is what she wanted.

Thus, she spent her days transcribing the notes that Baldassare took and putting them in his book. He had gone to the oldest of supernaturals in Gehenna and Pyestock and asked them about the histories written down by humans in order to get a better understanding of the truth. Almost all of it was there, but he didn't finish putting it in what he was calling the "Historia Superno" as a temporary title. Samantha had made incredible progress after having dedicated herself, but she felt as though she needed to do something more. She felt like she needed to learn more conventional disciplines, although Baldassare never learned them himself.

She needed a break. With a sigh, she pushed against her desk, scooting her chair back before getting up. She needed some air. Maybe a doughnut, too. Samantha put on her shoes and grabbed her purse, making sure she had her keys and wallet before heading downstairs and out the door.

The air of Gehenna had changed over the past few months. It wasn't a bad change, but it wasn't a good change, either. It was just different. People were still in the process of moving on from the town being on lock-down during Abhartach's plea for soldiers and the ones who went with him had to endure the shame of their betrayal and undergo the process of obtaining forgiveness. Some of the young vampires who used to try and intimidate her as she walked by their stoop weren't there anymore. The world kept turning and life kept on being lived.

Samantha didn't escape the fallout of Abhartach's plans unscathed, however. She still missed her mentor and thought about him often. He loved this town and its people more than anything. They spread his ashes down its streets and sometimes, it still felt like he was there. Sometimes, like she did on this day, she would go down to the bookshop where they first met and just browse. She wanted to see if there were any other stories she could make use of or materials she could interpret as true.

The bookshop hadn't changed. Not really. It had the same shelves that were built when Gehenna became "Gehenna," the same people working there, and the same ugly, pale-green walls illuminated by dim, unflattering fluorescent lights. There were changes in the section that contained Baldassare's books, however. They were more popular than ever and contained a portrait of the man placed prominently next to it. It was like a shrine. It was, somewhat- at least to Samantha. Seeing all of his work at once made her feel somewhat inspired. The man poured his heart and soul into those books and she loved them. Sometimes, however, it was a bit much.

She worked tirelessly for his work. She read it. She added onto it. She continued his legacy. But what about her? She felt like he would have told her to get a move on and start writing her own works, but at the same time, she wanted to work in his field. She wanted to both uphold his legacy while making her own mark on it. It seemed impossible, however. Samantha had no idea where to even start.

That said, a flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes while passing through the shelves as she bore witness to a new release. There were only a few copies surrounded by a sea of empty space on the shelf that it was meant to be occupying, indicating that it was a popular read. From the title, she could tell why. "_The Tale Of Sir Jim,_" it said. Content of the Lion was always popular, but Samantha's stomach immediately dropped when she read the name of the author: Darren Darcy.

Now, mister Darcy did not have the best of reputations in the supernatural publishing field and had an even worse relationship with the Phantomhive family. Mister Darcy used to be the head of the local newspaper, but was forcibly removed by his position by the HELLSING organisation- the only citizen to be so- for publishing blatant lies about the Lion himself. Darcy once claimed that Sir Phantomhive was cheating on his husband. Not only this, but he claimed that he had been cheating with Samantha's brother! It was a terrible mess that Daniel had to deny repeatedly until the paper published a formal apology. For this man to be publishing a book about the menace was not only terrible, but ill-advised.

Naturally, Samantha had to look through it. To her absolute horror, it was meant to be an "accurate" telling of the baronet's life story. Her entire body felt as though it was twisting and crushing itself, cringing at what she was reading. It was some nonsense about the menace being born into the world as a powerful demon who's natural kindness and goodness redeemed the horrible monster that was the legendary "Watchdog" and turned him into a man. Now, she had to admit that Sir Jim Phantomhive was not exactly "open" about his past, especially in a professional capacity, leading him to be as mysterious as he was heroic, but she was baffled by how this version of the menace was some cookie-cutter- albeit modernised- version of a knight in shining armour. He accepted each task as some kind of quest that was moral and good, rather than his job, was almost cartoonish in how just and pure he was.

Somehow, it just seemed that Darcy thought that as long as he was saying good things about the menace instead of bad ones, it was fine. The problem was that there was no regard for how the perpetuation of this narrative would affect the Phantomhives and their work. The absolute repulsion and horror Samantha felt while skimming the book was plainly clear, as it eventually caused some attention to be drawn to her.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" asked the store clerk who had been watching the emotional journey the Westley woman had just undergone from his position at the counter. They recognised each other due to how frequently Samantha came into the shop, and sometimes spoke about- well, books.

"No." Samantha immediately said before catching herself. "I mean yes! But no… I need to get this book."

"You don't have to get it if you don't like it, you know..." the man at the counter said.

"I know, but I do… My brother went to school with the Lion and this..." she trailed off, holding up the book, "...is a trainwreck."

"Is it bad?"

"Bad and wildly inaccurate. Like, obscenely so…" Samantha emphasised before setting it on the counter. "I need to show him."

"Oof… I won't take it seriously, then..."

The Westley woman paid for her atrocity and left the store, having successfully preached the truth to one person. Now only the rest of Gehenna remained. She wasted no time when she got home and started reading, and reading, and reading… She had to get up and walk around quite often, as the amount of fluff in the book was tedious, but there were also times when she needed to pace in order to work out some of her tension. Now, she didn't know every single detail about the menace, but interacts with him often enough, especially while she was in school and went over to the Phantomhive home in order to see her friend, Revy. Her brother also told her things about him, like basic details about him as a person. Those things didn't exist in this book, nor did the book's image match the reality. Naturally, as a budding supernatural historian, Samantha was furious.

She was perhaps not as furious as her brother, whom she showed the book to immediately upon his arrival home. Frantically, she explained it, but at first, he seemed to laugh it off. "It can't be that bad." he said, but when she started reading it aloud, his tune changed. Naturally, as a friend of the Phantomhive family and the Lion, Daniel was furious.

"What the fuck is that?!" he demanded. "He wasn't born a demon! He was human! He lived in the fucking Victorian era! And he wasn't a goody two-shoes, either! He wasn't even like that when we were in school! He was a delinquent! A regular fucking n'er-do-well! Lemme see that shit!"

Brow furrowed and nostrils flared, Daniel yanked the book out of his sister's hands and his eyes started scanning it. "He doesn't even talk like that! And how can this jackass say that he knows exactly what Alois said?! Who the fuck is 'Jim Trancy?!' He never went by that! 'Alois Trancy,' yeah, but for work, it was 'Jim Macken.' Doesn't this fucker know who the Mackens are? Where's Luka?! Where the fuck is he?! This son of a bitch is fucking dead..."

Angrily, he swallowed his rage enough to not return the book to his sister roughly before letting loose again to stomp over to his phone. It was low on battery and was left to charge, but he didn't care. He started dialing.

"Are you going to tell him?" Samantha asked as if she didn't already know the answer.

"You're fucking right, I am!" Daniel declared. "He needs to know! This could affect his career! His relationship with these people! He needs to know so they can shut Darcy down again and jail his ass for slander!"

"And then what?" the woman asked without thinking. Then, she caught herself and shook her head. "I mean, people want to know about him. There's nothing written about him apart from, I don't know, backlogs of the Gehenna Times? What if this, weird, cartoon version of him sticks?"

Pausing, Daniel thought, shaking his own head. "What do you think he should do, huh? He's not going to tell the truth, if you think that's what he's going to do. He's just not."

"Part of the truth, then?"

"Don't- He's just not going to, Sam..."

With that, her input was done. Her brother tried to call the menace's mobile directly, but couldn't get through. Thus, he decided to call the Phantomhive office number, hoping that he was just away from his cell phone at the moment. He listened to the phone ring three times before it was picked up. The voice on the other end, however, was not Jim's.

"_Phantomhive._" sternly answered the voice of the dreaded Watchdog. He always answered the office phone like that. Shockingly, it was his business greeting.

"Hey, it's me, Dan." the Westley replied, prompting the demon's tone to change immediately.

"Oh, hello, Daniel." Gone was the scolding tone that would do their teachers at Warwick Academy proud as the Phantomhive's speech softened. "How are you?"

"I'm good, but that's not really important right now." Daniel insisted. "Sam was at the bookstore today and I don't know if you already know, but that asshole who used to do the paper that you and HELLSING got fired wrote a biography about Alois."

"Is that so?"

"It _is_ so! He got it all completely wrong and made up a ton of shit that's not true. It's not like, nasty stuff and makes Alois look like, this super heroic knight and all that, but I thought it might cause some problems down the road if people start believing it."

"You're absolutely right, Daniel. That does seem like an issue." the bluenette replied. His tone was completely calm. It was practically friendly! It still made Mister Westley concerned, however, especially as the Phantomhive continued. "Don't worry." he said. "It will be taken care of."

Of course he used the most ominous phrasing possible. It actually took Daniel aback for a moment, causing him to pull the phone away from his ear briefly and look at it, as if asking for clarification that he heard that correctly. Placing the device back to his ear, he made his reply.

"Alright." Daniel said. "You can get it at the book store in Gehenna, if you wanna take a look at it."

"I do and I will. Thank you for the information, Daniel. I'll keep you updated about our progress on the matter. Goodbye." With that, Ciel slowly hung up, leaving Daniel perplexed on the other end of the line. Gently, the Phantomhive placed his palms on the surface of the desk, his arms and shoulders tense, before he anxiously began to tap his fingers. Then, a voice called out to him from behind him.

"What did Dan want?" questioned the menace, prompting the bluenette to take in a deep breath through his nose and straighten his back and shoulders. Ciel paused before letting out a long sigh.

"There is an issue." Ciel said plainly, knowing his spouse would not want him to beat around the bush. "Our good friend, Darren Darcy, the former editor of the Gehenna Times, has published a new book. Unfortunately for Mister Darcy, it is a biography. An unapproved one. About you. According to Daniel, it is also wildly inaccurate. Fortunately, he is no longer spreading malicious rumours, but rumours, nonetheless." Turning around, Ciel maintained his facade. "He has decided to portray you as a good knight who is always wonderful and brave. Now, I know that you would probably like to refuse this depiction, yes?"

"Fucking hell… That barmy bastard… You're right, I'm not okay with that. I'm not a wonderful saviour, and it's bad enough that some of the locals have that idea on their own. I don't need them to have reinforcement of that idea." Jim shook his head, letting out a tired sigh, himself. "We'll have to go get a copy before deciding what to do."

"Already on it." the Earl informed, already standing with his hand on the doorhandle.

"No, no you're not." Jim practically chastised. "You'll want to go handle it on you're own and it'll only make things worse if you make a snap decision and punish him yourself. This is my problem."

"I know, and I already want to." spoke the bluenette, letting go of the door to walk behind the blonde's sofa, putting his hands on the back of it and leaning down. "But I won't. I won't do anything to hurt you or your reputation, as much as I would _love_ to deal with the problem now."

"You're angry."

"_Furious._" Ciel clarified. "But this is indeed your problem, and it is entirely your right to decide how it is dealt with and yours alone. As much as I would love to fight for your honour, it is _your _honour. I would never intentionally do something so profoundly disrespectful."

"'Intentionally?' So you're saying that if you get heated..."

"I will control myself. It is you, I'm talking about, after all. In this state, I can do anything, as long as you're in my mind. I'm a bit more impulsive than usual, yes, but I can behave." Walking around the sofa, Ciel placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, running it across his neck and to his other shoulder while passing the arm of his seat. Once on the opposite side, Ciel crouched down so that he was more level with the menace. "I'm just going to get the book and come right back. That's all. I can do that with no problems at all. Please? Let me do this..."

What was the better choice, here? Indeed, Jim did recognise the immediate danger of allowing the bluenette in his current state to run free. The blonde had seen how defensive his husband could get. He heard the threats he made to Dafydd and was sure that if Dafydd did actually try something with him, Ciel would rough him up a bit. He wouldn't maim him, but he wouldn't get out of it uninjured. On the other hand, however, Ciel meant it when he spoke of honour and the like, and Jim believed him when he said that he said that he would never do something that would upset the menace on purpose. Jim wanted to take him at his word that he wouldn't destroy Mister Darcy if the "author" had the misfortune of accidentally encountering the Watchdog. Jim also knew that letting Ciel do things for him alleviated stress in his current condition and that he would be worrying about it if something weren't done. Ultimately, after heavy consideration, Jim agreed.

"Alright." He said. "You can go get the book." Ciel smiled at him, only for the menace to gently hold the bluenette's chin between his index finger and thumb. "But, don't pick any fights, okay? For me?"

"Alright." Ciel happily agreed. A light blush appeared on his face, only to darken when the blonde playfully scratched underneath his chin.

"Good boy." Jested the menace. "Now, go fetch."

"Please don't..."

"If you do it quickly, I'll rub your tum."

"Love potion or no, I still think that's embarrassing and would rather you didn't."

"Sorry, baby. Have a good time." Leaning forward, the blonde pressed a kiss against his husband's lips before the other man finally stood up.

"I'll be right back." Ciel reiterated. "No fights."

"Bye, baby~!"

"Bye." Awkwardly, the bluenette exited the room, closing the door behind him. The Watchdog had his mission and was determined to do it well, but that didn't exempt him from having his spouse giggle at him.

Once he was gone, Jim waited for the sound of the other demon's motorcycle starting up and driving off before moving from his spot. He closed his laptop and set it on the coffeetable before standing up and leaving the office, himself. He wasn't going to leave the house, however. Instead, he went to his bedroom, where he found his cell phone charging on his nightstand. There was one missed call. It was Daniel. Jim redialed the number and placed the device up to his ear.

"Hey, Dan. Sorry I missed you. Thanks for telling us about that book, too." he said. "I was wondering if you or Sam could tell me a few things about it? I'd kind of like to ask one of you a favour…"


	12. The Strangest of People

The Gehenna bookshop was quiet. It was late in the afternoon, so it was almost time for shifts to change for nightfall. Many local vampires bought shade gel so that they could continue to be daywalkers, but some people, in general, prefer the night. It's safer and easier for the majority of vampires, so most of the shops in Gehenna stayed open all through the night, unless they were food venues. This also meant, however, that business was slow as the sun set and while the clerk at the counter waited to be able to go home. The man behind the counter leaned against it, yawning widely, revealing large, pre-full moon canines. Where was the next cashier? They should've been there, by then.

Unfortunately, the next employee to take over was late enough that the clerk was able to hear the sound of an engine pull up to the curb. It didn't sound like a car or a truck- HELLSING had plenty of those. No, it sounded smaller, like a motorcycle or something similar. The engine switched off and there was a short delay, but then the door swung open, chilling the poor clerk to the bone as the scariest supernatural in Gehenna walked through the door. It wouldn't have been so bad if Lord Phantomhive didn't seem to be in such a foul mood.

The demon glided into the shop, keeping perfectly level with the floor as he slowly inspected the area. He turned his head at a similar pace, carefully examining the books while placing his hands behind his back, concealing his blackened fingernails from the cashier's gaze, but not yet acknowledging the other man's presence. His movements were ominous and the impression he gave off was not helped by his black suit and overall grim expression. Displeasure seemed to radiate off of his very being as he walked down the aisles until he saw the new releases sections. Superb. The clerk was still close enough that he could still be called over at a moment's notice. Worse, there was no way he could hide. That was when the horrific realisation of what the Watchdog was doing there shot through the clerk's mind.

The poor man screamed internally as he saw the Phantomhive reach for a book on the new releases shelf at exactly the same level as the book that Miss Westley warned the clerk about. She claimed to know the Phantomhives and it was no secret that her brother did. That must be how the Earl knew about it. The clerk thought he should say a prayer as he watched the demon open the book to the first page and felt as though he needed to hold up his arms to shield himself from the pure malice and rage that subsequently filled the room.

The Earl was angry. True to Samantha's word, the book was indeed inaccurate, painting an idealistic portrait of his beloved's life that was pure fiction. It sounded like some half-baked fairytale. Where was his struggle? Where was what shaped the menace into the man he is? There was no trace of either the Lion's past or present, here! The character in this book was just that. A character. He had no semblance to the real thing. He was fake. He was fictitious. He was hollow.

Ciel had had enough. Closing the book, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, doing his best to dissipate the suffocating cloud that hung over him and spread to the rest of his shop. The Earl had some success in doing so, but it was still very clear that he was upset. Next, came the true moment of terror for the cashier as the bluenette walked up to the counter and placed the book on its surface.

"Just this, please." Ciel said while fishing in his pocket for his wallet.

"Alright, sir.. er, Lord Phantomhive." the clerk flusteredly corrected himself, wincing as he hoped to God or whatever higher power existed that his head remained attached to his body, but the Phantomhive merely stared at him for a moment before blinking.

"It's alright." the Phantomhive replied while purposefully trying to relax his facial expression. "It's perfectly appropriate to the situation and regardless, I don't really mind. Some people get needlessly uppity about that sort of thing, but I think that's just pretentious."

His face and tone of voice caused the clerk to relax a bit. "Sorry, I didn't know." nervously laughed the clerk. "I've never really encountered it."

"Most people haven't. That's why it's unreasonable to ask everyone to suddenly know all of the manners and formalities associated with it. It's fine. I should be apologising to you, I think. I came into your shop in a bad mood and I know that with a face like mine, it can set people a little on edge. It wasn't directed at you, I promise."

"It's alright. I knew it was because of this book." the clerk said, handing the accursed tome to the Phantomhive. "Samantha Westley was in here earlier and said she had to get it because of how horrible it was. I guess it's true that it's not true?"

"Extremely so. My husband and I wanted to observe the damages for ourselves, so here I am."

"I've been telling people that it isn't true, and a few people were dissuaded from buying it, but a lot of people already have. I'm sorry. If you send us a formal letter, you might be able to persuade the owner to not stock them anymore."

"That's a very good suggestion." the bluenette said, offering a very slight smile. "I think we'll do that. Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome! I hope it all gets sorted. Have a nice evening!"

With a small wave, Ciel stepped out onto the sidewalk. He approached his motorcycle and slipped the book into one of the leather bags on the sides. Picking up his helmet, he looked down the street and he was struck once more by his intense foul mood. The Printer's shop was just down the street, and so was the Town Welfare Center. Both places had information on how to contact Mister Darren Darcy. It would be so easy to barge in there, demand that information, and then confront the problem directly. He could end this in a matter of minutes. True, he might have to shake down a few people along the way, but that's sort of what he wanted. He wanted someone to be punished for this. He wanted to rough someone up. It would be so easy. It would be easy and satisfying.

Before putting on his helmet and taking off, he pulled out his phone. He knew what he wanted to do was not in line with what his husband wanted. He looked at his screensaver for reassurance. The blonde's smiling face in the picture the two of them took together at the zoo was enough to convince him not to pursue the idea any longer. Jim was more important than personal retribution, especially since it was Jim's problem and Jim's past. It was his responsibility to deal with it, not Ciel's. With that, the bluenette, placed his phone back in his pocket and put on his helmet before getting on his ride and starting it up. Doing a U-turn to go back the way he came, he disappeared through the gates of Gehenna, leaving his target behind to live another uninjured day. Yet, as he left the supernatural city behind, shadows shifted in the darkness.

"Do you think he saw us?" Samantha questioned as she and her brother stepped out from their hiding spots.

"I have no idea… If he didn't, he could've sense us, but he didn't call us out, so maybe he wasn't paying attention?" Daniel let out a sigh. His friend, the Earl's husband, had asked him to make sure that Ciel did what he promised and left everyone unharmed. "I'm going to peek in the door to see if the shop's still intact."

He jogged to do just that and satisfied by his findings, he returned to his sister's side. "We're good. Let's go home."

"I thought my friends were weird, but I guess you've got it way worse, don't you?" Samantha rhetorically posed. As they walked home, however, she felt compelled to check her phone. She hadn't heard from either of her friends in a while, so the lack of notifications was somewhat concerning.

She knew that the bluenette was under the influence of a love potion by this point. She knew that the reason why Jim wanted them to watch after him to make sure he didn't do anything overly aggressive was because of it. It was strange, seeing him fight against it, but it also got her thinking. Even though life kept going on and she had other things to think about, she didn't forget the night that Ciel was drugged. She didn't forget how her own friend wrapped her pinky finger around her own.

Was it a failed hand-hold? Was it testing the waters? Was it nothing really to be concerned about? Samantha didn't know. Geraldine never said anything about it. She found it odd, as the other woman didn't come across as the type who would make any sort of move like that, but she supposed it wasn't completely impossible. Quickly, she shook her head. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. Even worse, with love potions being a threat to the community recently, she supposed that that could be an explanation. Geraldine never said anything, though. She didn't know.

Upon arriving home, Samantha took a seat and did some thinking. She knew that the simplest and easiest thing to do was to text her friend. Now, as to what she was going do say, she didn't quite know yet. Every greeting she started to type out sounded artificial, like she wouldn't actually say that under ordinary circumstances. Although, she supposed that she ought to tell Geraldine about the current situation with the unauthorised biography of her relative, so that was a start. After all, she knew that Geraldine got along well with Ciel. If anything, Samantha's association with Geraldine was the reason why she was never intimidated by the bluenette. They were similar. Wait-

On that note, would Geraldine be as awkward as the Earl was? So far, the only person who knew for certain was Geraldine herself, and she was only just now discovering that part of herself as well. A surge of anxiety ran through her when she saw the notification appear on her phone, only to disappear when she realised that it was an ordinary conversation. The Midford furrowed her brow, annoyed at the situation that Samantha had informed her about before quickly sending her reply, expressing her displeasure and her hope that the hack "author" responsible was sued. While it wasn't exactly what either of them really wanted to talk about, it was something, so that was good enough for the time being.

The inconvenience of it all irritated Geraldine. Her irritation was not lost on her family, who assumed it was because of the "potion-" the potion that Geraldine did not take. She still hadn't explained what the results of that test were, but her unusual behaviour was enough to convince the Midford family. The only one who wasn't fully convinced was her brother, Oliver, but he hadn't the evidence to deny the possibility entirely. Really, none of them would be surprised if the potion wasn't behind this, however. They had gotten some hints.

While Geraldine's lack of interest in dating could simply be chalked up to her being "picky" or a "late bloomer," it was also possible that she simply wasn't interested in men. The way she dressed wasn't definitive, either, but combined with a few other quirks about the young woman, it did make her family suspicious. Both Geraldine and Samantha were perhaps too big of fans of Allison Bechdel amoung other things. You know- as typical gal pals are.

As she continued to message, however, she was interrupted by a knock at her door. Immediately, she worried, thinking it might be her family, deciding that it was finally time to talk to her about her problems. Thus, she was a bit hesitant in getting up and answering it. She couldn't tell if she was relieved or not when she opened the door. It wasn't her family, but instead, the strange outsider who had been staying with them. Unlike Geraldine, who often looked bored, Claire Whelan wore a look on her face that made her look angry in comparison. However, by many people, they were considered to be the same thing. In addition, Geraldine could see the affects of the full moon approaching, as the woman's ears had the slightest of points toward the top and pale, thick, peach fuzz on the sides of her face. Geraldine had no idea what she could possibly want until the other woman presented her with some folded clothes.

"Thank you for letting me borrow them." Claire said. "I washed them."

"Thanks." Geraldine did her best to mask her confusion as she took back the borrowed clothing, only for it to peak as the faoladh silently nodded before walking away. The Midford knew that not all werewolves were this strange, fortunately, but wondered how Oliver was able to talk to her so easily. Geraldine couldn't imagine what she must be like on the full moon itself.

Claire moved along, allowing a yawn to slip out of her mouth as she woke up early in order to catch Geraldine awake. Typically, Claire was awake at night for work and slept during the day, unless she wanted or needed something. She made her rounds, getting something to eat in the kitchen, as she purposefully neglected to attend dinner with the Midford family. It seemed as though she was not completely rid of them, however, as Oliver came downstairs into the kitchen.

"Good morning." the man greeted, walking over to pilfer through the refrigerator.

"Good evening." Claire answered. Her eyes watched him as he took a carton of milk out of the refrigerator before fixating on a specific feature. "Why is your hair like that?" she asked.

"A rare question!" Oliver noted, setting a glass on the counter.

"Nevermind..."

"No, it's a valid question. You noticed that my father and sister do the same, right?"

"Right..." the woman conceded. "Is it a tradition?"

"Kind of. I guess calling it that would make sense. Initially, it was just a hairstyle worn by the Marchioness Francis Midford, only the lock was on the right side." the man explained, gesturing to the lock of hair that was longer than the rest and hung by his ear. "It was then copied by her daughter, Dame Elizabeth Hellsing, when she was a child, but after marrying into the Hellsing family, the switch came, but for a practical reason. Hair blocking the left ear is said to block the whispering of malevolent spirits, making it harder for them to weaken your spirit and possess you. After that, it became fashionable amoungst the Midfords who were then newly aware of the existence of supernatural beings. Although, I'm not really sure why hair can do that."

"Hair has magical properties." the woman replied. "Even in humans, whose ability to use magic is barely existent at best. It's why you never give your hair away to witches. You can do all sorts of things with hair. Good things. Bag things. You can curse people or make protective charms."

"Really?" Oliver asked with a smile, absent-mindedly reaching up to play with his hair.

"Yes. It's clever, even if you don't know everything."

"Most humans don't know about the ins and outs of magic..."

"That's their loss. They ought to learn. They might not be so weak, otherwise."

"Still not a fan?"

Claire didn't answer right away. She sat up straight in her chair and uttered a sigh. "I try to be patient with humans, as they have granted me mercy. I owe them my life and my service. However, there are things that I cannot forgive." Turning her head, she looked at the man. "I accept the conditions under which my survival and the survival of my people is permitted, but the permanency of this life of secrecy… saddens me."

"You don't have to, here." the man replied. "You don't have to at HELLSING."

"I appreciate your kindness, but I don't find that to be the case." Standing up, Claire walked toward him, as if she were intentionally trying to scare him off. "The full moon is coming, you know. When it arrives, I won't be able to control my form. Humans tend to find that disgusting. It's a perversion of their likeness, after all."

"I don't mind." Oliver stated, not backing down in the face of his former underling's bluff. "It's just the way you are."

"There will be a very large, very hungry, carnivorous supernatural with an infectious bite in your home."

"And we've gotten you food in preparation for that. I'm pretty sure you're not going to bite anybody, either."

"True. I would immediately be under siege if that were the case."

"I was thinking more along the lines of you not being the kind of person who would do something like that." Oliver clarified. "You don't hurt people unless it's necessary." Tilting his head, he leaned against the counter as he spoke to the woman. "If anybody says anything like that, tell me. I'll set them straight. Supernaturals aren't unusual for this family, but it could happen. We're related to demons, not werewolves. The way they can see you might be different. I'll watch for it, okay?"

The faoladh continued to frown, staring at his her host skeptically. "You're strange." she stated before turning back to the table she was eating at. She picked up her plate and scooped its remaining contents before finishing up her drink. After setting her dishes in the sink, she walked away, heading back upstairs and retreating from the situation, as she didn't know how to talk to Oliver anymore. The man was left alone in the kitchen, shaking his head. From his perspective, even if he was strange, so was she.


	13. Well, It's Certainly A Chapter

It took a few days, but the editor of the local supernatural newspaper, The Gehenna Times, received a very official-looking letter. The envelope was made of sturdy paper and it was closed by a wax seal depicting a very well-known family crest. Receiving such a letter was very exciting for the newspaper, but also a source of dread. Once the editor finally wracked up the nerve to open it, she found a very serious, yet eloquently-written letter enclosed inside.

The Baronet Sir Jim Phantomhive had written to the paper to address his depiction in Darren Darcy's new book about him in a public fashion. This was not meant to embarrass Mister Darcy, but rather, to clear up the falsehoods the man had spread to the public as well as apply pressure on him so that he would be inspired to remove the book from publication voluntarily rather than by legal or HELLSING intervention.

"Although I am flattered by the positive depiction of myself that Mister Darcy has presented, it is still a false narrative that has influenced the way the public perceives me in both a personal and professional capacity." the letter said. "My past and my personal life are private, for the time being, until the moment in which I decide for myself that I wish to share that information with the public. That day, however, will not be coming any time soon, especially given recent events. While I do like to consider myself to be a good person, I find the deliberate avoidance and erasure of the struggles and mistakes that have shaped me to be hurtful. In addition, the depiction of my spouse as a cruel 'beast' until he met me is not only false, but harmful. You cannot claim to be depicting 'history' when you didn't even bother to ask the people involved what happened! It is dishonest, devious, and despicable to make up such fiction for one's own personal gain and I would very much appreciate it if Mister Darcy were to remove his book from circulation as to not spread these lies any further. If he refuses, I will be forced to take further action."

Darcy passed through the front gates of Gehenna before the letter was even published and didn't come back. He knew what was going to happen next. Although the city is a considerable size, it is still small enough that word of this travels fast and people recognise him. Once it got out that he lied, his reputation plummeted. People were angry at him. Once that happened, there was no coming back from it.

The bookshop pulled his work from their shelves and refused to give refunds to those who bought it. Many people were outraged to the point of threatening to burn their copies, and the editor of the newspaper, who just so happened to be the man's sister, was forced to publish the truth about what he had done. Thus, he simply fled. He packed up a bag and decided that he would stay elsewhere, although no one was really sure where he went. Most people assumed he found a place in London, but only God knows how. What exactly he was going to do out there was uncertain as well. The fact that he ran made HELLSING suspicious.

But they couldn't find anything on him. He simply ran to avoid embarrassment, it seems. From his history, however, he could be a threat to the maintenance of secrecy that protects supernatural society. That is why the orginisation added him to the list of people of interest that they would be watching out for.

The public was mixed on how to react to all of this. There were some people who were dissappointed that the stories weren't true and even fewer who decided to just ignore the announcement and believe in them anyway. Thankfully, the majority were aware of Darcy's previous antics and accepted it without further incident, although the general populace's interest in the origins of the Lion persisted. The letter only made people wonder about what was the truth of the matter. Jim predicted this, but he wasn't really happy about it.

Truth be told, he didn't really want to think about it. He wanted to ignore this desire that the public expressed to avoid having to confront more than he was capable of at that moment. The man was still seeing his therapist on a regular basis and had made vast improvements, but the thought of broadcasting to the world the things that were done to him and the things he did, himself, was absolutely horrific. That was his pain and his pain alone. It was for him to endure and to overcome and no one elses'.

It was especially not for anyone to gawk at. Jim expected mockery, as often came with sexual assault. He expected shame. He expected that it would disappoint his fans, as he was not the brave and pure champion that many people thought he was. He was, at one point, a liar, a thief, and a slave. That was hardly the picture of valiant majesty. His former villainy did not help things, either. While the man was still a scoundrel who assassinated people and waged war, he did so on somewhat respectable terms. How would it feel to discover that one's hero had mugged women and the elderly in broad daylight? How would it feel to discover that as a result of his imprisonment and previous rejection of his peers caused him to act out, often violently? To discover that he had once gouged out the eye of his maid for the crime of daring to look at him, or that he once tried to murder a group of innocents at a party just for the sake of getting a shot of capturing one boy?

It was not a good look. That isn't to say that he wasn't a victim or that he was entirely at fault for his circumstance. He really did do everything he could in order to survive the cruelty that life bludgeoned him with, but people weren't rational. His mental state at the time was not rational, but many people aren't. It is safe to assume that there would definitely be some who blamed him for what happened and that there were also people who could not forgive the things that he had done as a child. Jim didn't blame them, either. He didn't want to disappoint the people who looked up to him, so instead of acknowledging the outcry for the real story, he stayed put at his home and washed his hands of the whole incident.

At least, he tried to. He couldn't put down the book that Darcy had written. It was just so terrible that he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"You really ought to stop, Jimmy." insisted his beau, setting down a cup of tea in front of his spouse. "It's only going to make you feel bad."

"So says the man who insisted on going to get it the night we were informed of it's existence." the blonde replied, only to earn a skeptical look from the Watchdog. "Okay, okay, you're right. I feel like shit. I can't help it, though! Is this seriously how people perceive me? How the fuck did that happen?! I'm not anything like this and I just- Ugh! It's like I'm looking at a mirror while wearing rose-tinted goggles…"

"You're a good man who has done nothing but inspire hope within the citizens of Gehenna. You've always been a positive force for them, so this depiction makes sense."

"It does, but it isn't true!" The menace slumped in his chair to the point where his back was on the seat and his head was resting at an awkward angle. "The real thing doesn't compare at all..."

"Personally, the real story is a lot more interesting, but that's because you're a real person and not a flat, two-dimensional hero archetype." Ciel replied. "It's inspiring, really."

"Not to me, it's not..." grumbled the blonde. "It's a great story about an underdog hated by everyone becoming a hero. A real feel-good story for everyone else, but it's real to me. It's not inspiring. It's just… reality… and it hurts. It's hurt for a long time. I don't want it to be turned into somebody's shitty inspiration-porn."

At first, the Watchdog didn't know how to reply. He always thought that Jim was incredibly strong for overcoming the obstacles he had, but understood immediately why he might not see it that way himself. After all, Ciel didn't find it admirable to rise to power the way that he, himself, did. Thus, the Watchdog quickly found a place to start. "Sorry…" he said, reaching down to run a hand through Jim's flaxen locks. The other man simply closed his eyes at the gentle gesture and uttered a sigh.

"It's okay. I just… I don't want to make a big deal out of it. I don't want it all to be public property."

"You don't have to. They can endure the mystery."

"I guess… I think I could let a few details out. Like how I was a commoner and a human and all that. Maybe a few details as to how we really met? That really fuckin' pissed me off..."

"What did?"

"How Darcy wrote us meeting! You weren't some beast that I tamed through the pure power of love of whatever the fuck. You were a guy who was suffering from his own mental illnesses and trauma, too. Having someone to relate to and support you definitely helped, since I know it helped me, but… Ugh! It's bad enough that he made shit up about me! At least it was nice lies, but that? That's downright slander!"

"I could let my story out." the bluenette suggested. "I don't mind it. It's ancient history, by now. It would clear up at least a little bit and I don't have to go into extensive detail about your problems at all."

"You don't have to do that…" Jim stated. "Don't do that for me..." Ciel raised his brows as his beloved sat up properly, grabbing hold of the Watchdog's hand on his head before removing it and holding it in his own. "At least wait until your system is clear of that stupid potion, okay? Don't ever make a decision like that for my sake."

"I won't…" the bluenette replied, a light blush dusting his cheeks as the other man kissed the back of his hand.

"Good. This fucking sucks."

"Do you need a hug?"

"...Yeah." Allowing himself to be pulled upwards by his hand, Jim stood and wrapped his arms around his husband's waist as the other man's enveloped him in a firm embrace. Like always, it felt safe, there, like the things that were bothering him couldn't reach him.

They held each other for a long while as the bluenette comfort his beau, but eventually, Ciel started to wonder if it was too long. Turning his head, he tried to see what face his husband was making, but it was no use. It was turned away as the menace rested the side of his head on the Watchdog's shoulder, although, to be fair, he did look very comfortable.

"Feel better?" asked the Watchdog.

"Yeah. This is nice." Jim replied. "I want to stay like this a little while longer."

"Well, in that case, give me a second..." Ciel let go of his husband before nudging the other man off of himself. He repositioned his arms so that he had a good grip on the blonde as he picked him up and shuffled back toward the chair that Jim was sitting in, much to the blonde's delight. He giggled as Ciel sat down, placing Jim in his lap so that he was sitting sideways with his legs dangling over the armrest.

"I know I'm supposed to be a brave, strong, noble baronet, but being held like a princess is also fun." laughed the menace.

"I agree."

"I don't hold you like that a lot, do I? You wanna trade places?" Jim questioned with a grin, only to receive a chuckle in response.

"I'm a bit bigger than you. Are you sure you won't be squished?"

"No, but I wanna try real quick." Before Ciel could protest, Jim was already on the move. He stood up, beckoning his husband to do the same. With a roll of his eyes, the Watchdog obliged, only to have his seat immediately stolen, or rather, returned to the original owner. Ciel couldn't help but shake his head and laugh at the ridiculous sight of his husband patting his lap with a big, goofy smile on his face as he silently urged Ciel to sit down.

Unfortunately, the Watchdog was correct in his assumption that he would have trouble fitting, as he immediately started to slide off of Jim's lap until the menace firmly wrapped his arms around his waist again, locking him in place. "See? It doesn't work as well..."

"I think it works just fine!" grinned the menace.

"You're not being crushed?"

"Nope!"

"You're not uncomfortable?"

"Nope~!"

"My bones aren't jabbing you or anything?"

"Nah, your butt isn't bone-y." Jim replied with a strange air of sincerity about him. "You're a lot more thicc than you think."

_ "__Pardon?_" questioned the poor Watchdog with an arched eyebrow.

"Thicc. You're thicc, Ciel."

"That's not a very nice thing to say. What did I do to you?" While Cieldidn't quite understand, he could tell that Jim wasn't being mean, at least, so he figured that he was being playful, regardless as to what the blonde was trying to convey.

"Thicc! With two 'c's! You've got a nice ass!"

"Since when does 'thick' mean 'nice ass?'"

"Ciel, you beautiful, beautiful, man… Your lack of understanding of modern slang is adorable."

"Thank… you..?"

While the Phantomhives were having fun and while Jim's mood was improving, there was a man elsewhere who was having a significantly less fun time in recovering from injury. Logan stayed at home, where he had been for the entirety of the week after having hurt his back while working, and was still very clearly not happy about it. It wasn't just the fact that he was trapped at home. He was also trapped in bed, save for the times when his own significant other moved him to the couch. Even worse, he was being treated for his soreness by his boyfriend, who was doing his absolute best, but was perhaps not the best for the job, at times.

"Ow, ow, OW! Too hard!" the incubus let out, lifting his head from the pillow as his tail quickly flicked to the side, forcing the wolfman behind him to let go or be whipped.

"Sorry, but Missus Harefoot said to rub it in pretty hard." Kristopherson protested, his hands still covered in the salve the other man told him to get from a local witch he knew.

"Not that hard!"

"I have to knead the muscle." the well-intentioned werewolf stated. "I'll let up a little bit, but I'm not just going to slap it on there and call it a day. Don't hit me with that thing, either! It hurts!"

"My back hurts! You can't knead it that ha- oh..." Logan practically collapsed as the wolfman started up again, this time a lot softer. The sudden change was substantial enough to make Kristopherson roll his eyes.

"So I take it that I don't need to go get the duct tape?" he asked.

"Noooo..." Logan whined. He seemed fine. His boyfriend continued to massage the salve into his back until he checked the time and realised he had done so for long enough. Logan really wanted to complain when Kristopherson got up and left the room, leaving him laying on his stomach with the ache in his back coming back.

The wolfman returned however with a towel and a heating pad, placing the towel on Logan's back before forcing him to roll over on top of the pad. He plugged it in and made sure that Logan could reach it to change the temperature in case it was too hot or too cool. Even though he was a bit rough, Logan could tell that he was doing his best, so it was fine, as long as his injury never got worse.

"Can you bring me my woodworking magazines?" questioned the incubus with a slight pout before he was left on his own.

"Will you complain about how bad you want to go to the shop if I do?" Kristopherson asked back.

"Probably..." Mister Kendrick bluntly replied. "I can't help it! I'm bored! I want to make something! I could've built a small cabin by now! It's like, I have seven different blueprints in my head right now, but I can't build any of them until I'm out of this stupid bed."

"There's not a lot I can do to help that, I'm afraid."

"I know… I just want to complain..."

"I can tell. You're surprisingly good at it. I'm kind of impressed. Are you coming for my title as the King of Complaining?"

"I guess so. I'd build a throne, but, as you can see..." Logan raised his arms before gesturing back down at the bed he was in. "I'm a bit busy making a permanent dip in the mattress."

"Even when you're able to get up, you'll need to take it easy for a while, you know. Don't go lifting a ton of heavy stuff or you'll hurt yourself even worse."

"Yeah…" Logan sighed. "Mum came over while you were at the shop."

"She still mad?"

"Kind of? It's that 'mum' kind of mad where she's not really _mad_-mad, but is unimpressed with my life choices."

"At least she's not upset about not getting her new shelf for a little while!" Kristopherson offered.

"I want to finish it..."

"You need something to do… Do you want a book? Do you want to watch a movie? I have a friend who might let me borrow one of his game consoles..."

"I don't know Audrey that well, but even I can tell that he would never loan out one of his children."

"I'll just go get your woodworking magazines, shouldn't I?"

"Thank you." Logan replied, reaching out as far as he could to pat his beau in a playful fashion. He appreciated everything Kristopherson was doing for him. He really did. He was just bored, frustrated, and in pain.

The incubus had felt a bit better as of late, but he knew better than to try getting up and walking around without Kristopherson there just in case. Sadly, he was not an idle person, so he didn't know if he was going to be able to stand being in the same spot much longer. In his mind, Logan gave himself a few more days before he would be healed enough to start moving around. Fortunately, his boyfriend kept him company when he returned home in the late afternoon and kept him updated on what all was happening in the outside world. He would also return on his lunch breaks to check on Logan and make sure he had everything he needed. Kristopherson bought him a cell phone, but getting him to use it was somewhat of a bizarre hassle.

Until then, Logan kept himself entertained by watching TV, reading what was nearby, and designing furniture in his head. One of his new favourite games was to listen to the rare sound of movement coming from upstairs and trying to figure out where the other person's position was in their own apartment. Admittedly, it was a somewhat creepy game, but he knew that he meant no harm by it and had no intention of informing the Westleys of it. He figured it was just Samantha, as her brother was usually out during the day. Sometimes, she would leave, too, perhaps in search of updates on the Darcy situation or to talk to Kyung-Soon, the leader of Girasol, or to bookstore, or something. The more he thought about it, the more he became somewhat unsettled that he knew that much information about his neighbours' routines.

Around this time of day, he could always hear two sets of feet, but this time, one of them was moving a bit quicker than usual. He couldn't hear any voices, but was a bit curious about the straying away from routine. On the second floor of the building, Daniel was pacing about, feeling his pockets to make sure that he had everything he needed before he set out again.

"Keys, gum, wallet..." he listed off to himself as he felt his pockets. Pulling out his wallet, he checked its content before nodding to himself and carefully putting it back. "Jacket… Do you think I might need one?"

"Yeah, there's still a bit of a breeze." his sister nodded from her seat on the couch. "You should bring an umbrella."

"Right." the man agreed before racing off to find one. Once he returned, he waved it at Samantha. "Got it."

"You should probably stop and get some flowers or something on your way there."

"Good idea!" Daniel enthusiastically agreed, walking toward the door before abruptly stopping. "What flowers are appropriate to give a warlock? They're very into different kinds of plants."

"No idea, actually? Now that I think about it, you'd have to either go out to London or pick some. I'd go with the dessert instead."

"Next time. I'll ask around first." the man said. "Does my hair look okay?"

"It looks nice. A bit fluffy, but it's not bad." Samantha replied. "Why are you so nervous? You've had dinner over at his place already."

"Not alone! Usually you're there and tonight, Ruby is at her grandma's house."

To that, Samantha didn't say anything right away. She paused before asking: "So… What? You're nervous because there's the possibility of..." She trailed off, but made herself very clear as she made a ring with her left index finger and thumb before inserting her right index finger through it in a crude gesture.

"Shut up!" Bashfully barked her brother, swatting at her half-heartedly as he laughed at him while wearing a mischievous grin. The poor man hadn't even left the house yet and his face was flushed.

"There's not going to be anyone there to protect your maidenly virtue?"

"I said shut up! If you're going to be like that, call Gerry up and tell her she can't come over, you useless lesbian!"

He expected Samantha to come up with a retort right away, but instead, her own hue reddened and she lacked her usual immediacy. She found her footing, however, and was able to come up with something in spite of her apparent embarrassment. "I'll have you know that I'm a very productive lesbian, thank you very much."

"Mm-hm. That's why there's still dirty laundry in your floor while you're planning on having company over?"

"I was going to get it after you leave! Quit stalling and go!"

"Fine, fine, I'm going, I'm going… Lock the door behind me."

"Fine..." with a roll of her eyes, Samantha stood up from the couch and followed the man to the doorway, descending the stairs before her brother opened the door.

"See you later." he said as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Be good. Don't burn the house down."

"I won't. Have fun." Samantha replied with her hand on the doorhandle. "Don't forget to use protection."

In an instant, she saw him get ready to run back towards her, but before he could reach her, she slammed the door shut and locked it, laughing maniacally the entire time. Daniel jiggled the handle before giving the door a kick. "I can always kick you out, you know!" he declared. He wasn't serious. He never was. It was obvious to Samantha by this point. "Get a job and go to uni!"

Giving up, he turned around and started to walk away. There was no point in taking the car, as Mister Ravenscroft's house wasn't too terribly far away. As planned, however, he stopped at the bakery on his way there and brought his prize to the other man's door. Bag in one hand, Daniel reached up and gripped the handle of the bird-shaped door knocker that was the tell-tale sign of the flat being Theodore's and alerted his beau of his presence.

While Daniel waited, he messed with his hair again before very quickly dropping his hand back down to his side as he heard the lock on the door turn. He quickly tried to shove his hand into his pocket, but missed, trying again until the door opened and he gave up, hooking his thumb in his belt loop instead. Theodore noticed that he was doing something, but didn't see enough of it to know what. He didn't dwell on it, though, and instead smiled at his boyfriend.

"Hey!" he greeted before stepping to the side, allowing Daniel entry. "Come in! It's good to see you! I mean, we saw each other at work, but still. I like seeing you."

"I like seeing you, too." Daniel grinned back as Mister Ravenscroft reached out to cup his cheeks. He closed his eyes and allowed Theodore to kiss him, starting an evening where he would be out late enough that he would have to sneak back into his own house.

* * *

**A/N: Hello everyone. Welcome to this chapter where I literally gave up. It's one of those weird ones where I just got so stuck to the point where it's like "I literally have no idea where this is going I have no content Jesus take the whole car." So I just ended it, basically, so I can regroup and start a different one. That is what we're doing this week, unfortunately. Sorry about that!**

**It's kind of being like that the last couple of chapters where I set up an idea, but haven't got any content for it, so I keep ending it in the next chapter? Lol that's so bad! I know I'm doing it, so I think I might spend a day or two where I just figure out how to get to the thing that I actually kinda wanna write about. I HAVE ideas for like, an actual arc! It's just getting there that's a pain. I had another thing that I thought would be cool, but realised that the character just wasn't there yet for that to happen, and now it's just a waiting game.**

**Or I could just go right into it. I could. I should probably develop the plot a little more before I do, though lmao. **

**We'll get there, we'll get there! Not the first rough patch in DLTD we've ever had and it probably won't be the last. Thoughts and prayers and all that.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	14. Buzzkill

It started with a question: "Hey, Ciel, how come you never dance to a faster tempo?"

"Huh?" Naturally, Jim's question caught the bluenette off-guard. He actually pulled out both earbuds to make sure that he was hearing his husband properly.

"You really like ABBA and stuff, but you never dance to it. The fastest thing I've seen you dance to are all waltzes. Is it embarrassing, or something?" the blonde questioned further. It was a low blow, but it was also direct. Deadly. Jim hit the nail on the head.

"Uh… Well… More or less..?" the bluenette replied. He seemed unsure about it, however, despite Jim getting it right. "I don't know how to do it and there doesn't seem to be anyone who can teach you how. Waltzes have rules and steps. So does slow dancing. I know that most dances do, but..."

"But?"

"Well, most people don't dance them, do they? Then again, most people don' t know how to waltz."

"What are you talking about? There's dance classes, you know."

"At my age, though?"

"There's people who look older than you who take dance lessons, Ciel."

"I still don't think I could do it." the Watchdog stated. "What brought this up?"

"I dunno. I saw you listening to music and my mind started wandering from there." Jim informed, turning in his chair so that his whole body faced Ciel's side of the desk. With a smile, he enthusiastically held up his fists. "You'd probably be good at it! You have great rhythm!"

"I'd make a fool of myself..."

"So? If it's the public part that bothers you, you shouldn't start there, anyway. Just dance with me."

Ciel paused, taking his hands away from the keyboard in front of him and crossed his arms. He leaned back in his chair and stared ahead, mulling it over. Finally, he looked over at the menace. "Do you want to dance with me?"

"Yeah! I like it a lot! I think it would be nice to go dancing with you sometimes, it's just that there's a lot of places where waltzing isn't really an option."

"Like that club you and Kristopherson go to?"

"Yeah!"

"You'd like me to go with you?"

"Not if you're really opposed to it." answered the blonde lowering his hands and placing them on his knees. He still smiled, as it was a casual conversation and not something he desperately needed. "I know it's not really your scene… I just think that it would be way more fun to dance with you than on my own or with Kris and the others in a group."

True, Ciel was the only non-heterosexual in the group that didn't go to the "alternative" bars and clubs with the others, apart from Daniel's boyfriend, Theodore, but that was only because he had a child to take care of at home. Ciel just didn't go because he spent a good portion of the time gaurding everyone else's belongings while everyone else played. He went about twice and that was it. It became more of "Jim's thing" than both of theirs, but that was alright. Neither of them really minded. Although, Ciel had to admit, it wasn't very nice to see his husband dancing with other men those two times he did go, but it didn't come from a place of distrust. He was not jealous, he was envious. It would be fun to dance with his husband, but he knew that he was a bit "old-school," and didn't want to embarrass himself or others around him with sub-par dance moves. If it was just with Jim alone with no one around, however, the temptation only increased.

"Maybe." Ciel only partially relented. "I would be willing to consider the possibility."

"What else is in the way?"

"I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you, either."

"I'm not too concerned about that." the blonde stated, resting and elbow on the divider between their two desks that housed their phone before resting his chin in his palm. "Dancing with you is always a good time. You're always so dreamy… If you're not good at regular dancing though, the only alternative is that you'll just be cute while you improve. After all, I'm pretty sure nobles aren't born with the inherent ability to waltz."

"I suppose you're right..." conceded the Watchdog as his beau stood up. Ciel turned his head as he watched the other man close the curtain. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna make you dance." Jim casually stated before walking back over to the desks. He switched on a bluetooth speaker that was placed on his, and synched it with his phone.

"What?! You mean now? Right now?"

"Yep." the menace grinned as music began to play. Naturally, he put on ABBA's "Dancing Queen" before starting to dance on his own, making his way around to his husband's side of the desk before reaching out and grabbing Ciel's hands. "Come on! Show me how people danced in gay clubs in the 70's! Show me how to disco!"

He guided his beau to his feet and out toward the middle of the room, smiling at him, and moving his feet and hips to the beat. He pushed one of Ciel's hands while pulling on the other before switching, forcing him to move his shoulders. All the while, Ciel looked at him with a concerned look on his face.

"I don't know how to do that!" he protested. "I'm! I'm not fun..."

"Sure you are! You're plenty fun! The funnest person I know! Here..." Letting go of Ciel's hands, Jim placed them on his own shoulders before grabbing hold of the other man's hips and helping them sway. "See? You're doing good! Come on! Move your feet, too!"

"Only because you're leading..." Ciel replied. He started to relax a bit, only for his nervousness to spike again. "Wait! Don't let go!"

"Just keep moving!" the menace said as his beau stopped. "It doesn't matter how! Just start!"

"Uh..." After much hesitation, he very clumsily did as he was told. His face was burning and he couldn't look his husband in the eye. He didn't really know what to do with his hands, so he tried just copying what Jim was doing, but that only made him offbeat. Finally, he very quickly just dropped them and stood still. "This is embarrassing! I can't do it!"

"It's not something you really think about..."

"How?!" Ciel's embarrassment and frustration toward his lack of ability caused him to lash out a bit, raising his voice. "There aren't any steps, so how am I supposed to know what to do?!"

"Oh! Right, right, okay..." Jim nodded, realising what the problem was. He was starting off a bit strong, it seemed, so he reached out to grab Ciel's hands again. "Hold on to me, then. I'll lead..."

"No. I'm done. I don't want to dance. I have work to do, anyway." the Watchdog grumbled as he began to walk back over to his desk with a very stern look on his face. As he rounded the corner and sat down, he pointed to the speaker on Jim's desk. "And turn that off."

Oh, dear. That wasn't good. Jim took out his phone and turned off the music before walking over and turning off the speaker as well. He looked over at his beau, but the bluenette's gaze stayed focused on his computer as he sulked.

"Are you mad?" Jim asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No." Yes. Ciel was. Jim could tell by the sound of his voice. Perhaps he had gotten too comfortable with how agreeable Ciel had been lately.

"Sorry… I'll pay more attention next time." The blonde couldn't leave it without at least saying that much. He knew that Ciel probably didn't want to talk right now, so he just left it at that.

"Alright." the bluenette answered. Not "It's alright," just "alright."

Jim sat down at his desk and continued to do his own work in silence. Naturally, he was upset that Ciel was upset with him, but knew that it wasn't about him. He was not the center of attention, here, as it was Ciel who had been hurt. That's what really made him feel bad. Despite the bluenette feeling the effects of that love potion, he was not entirely subject to Jim's whims, even if it appeared that way sometimes. The more the blonde thought about it, the more it made sense. Ciel was sensitive and was not the type to handle embarrassment well. He wanted to be in control of his appearance and witnessing his vulnerability was a privilege. He didn't want to look uncool, but he especially didn't want to look uncool in front of people whose respect he actually cared about. Jim knew that he would have to apologise properly later when Ciel had cooled down and was able to have that conversation. In the meantime, the menace tentatively stayed in his lane.

It wasn't quite a "fight," but it was still significant enough to be noteworthy, given how well they typically got along. Jim did his best not to make a big deal out of it, knowing that that was the last thing he needed to do, but he oh so desperately wanted to shower Ciel with affection until he wasn't mad anymore. Space was necessary, but perhaps not the kind of space they ended up having. It felt inappropriate, given the circumstance.

The Phantomhives had been invited out by Kristopherson to join himself and the Westleys on an outing, but due to the type of outing, it really meant that Jim was invited, although Ciel would certainly be welcomed with enthusiasm if he showed up. It was simply assumed that he wasn't interested in going. They were going to the same club that they always did, but because dancing was involved, Jim did something unusual before he left.

Ordinarily, he would tell Ciel that they had been invited and that he was going in addition to when, but this time, he didn't. Instead, he asked his husband if it was alright. It wasn't quite "permission," but rather if Ciel would be upset. Jim worried that might be the case and braced himself for it, but to his surprise, the bluenette answered as calmly and nonchalantly as always.

"No, I don't mind. Go ahead. Have fun." There was no aggravation in his tone at all. In fact, he seemed a bit surprised by the question, but didn't press it. The displacement confused his husband immensely.

"Uuuuuugh! I don't get it!" the menace groaned from the backseat of Kristopherson's car. "Why isn't he mad?"

"Isn't it a good thing?" Logan questioned, now (mostly) free of his injury after a few more days had passed. Everyone thought they might go out to celebrate, but it was unlikely that he was going to be doing much dancing.

"It's not that simple..." Kristopherson replied. "It's the principle of it."

"I didn't even apologise all the way!" lamented Jim. "I don't get why's he okay with it!"

"Because he wants you to have fun even if you don't both enjoy the same things." the incubus suggested. "Look at me and Kris: Can you imagine this one picking up a drill?"

"No, because that would be a danger to society..."

"Rude!" playfully faux-scoffed the wolfman, half-heartedly reaching back behind his seat to swat in the general direction of his best friend. Still, the menace only sighed.

"I don't like hurting his feelings… I'm worried that his feelings are still hurt!"

"You just said like, two minutes ago that 'smothering him with affection' will probably piss him off." Kristopherson reminded, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Just have fun tonight, Jim." Logan added. "Then, when you get home, you can see if he's ready to talk. It isn't the end of the world. Your relationship is much stronger than that."

"Do you ever fight with Kris?" Jim questioned.

"Yeah. Usually about dumb stuff." bluntly answered the incubus before his own boyfriend butted back in.

"You kept trying to leave bed while your back was still fucked up!" the driver reminded.

"I'm a free spirit, Kris. You can't pin me down..."

The conversation continued on with that train of thought until they made it to the club. Finding parking was a pain, but fortunately for Kristopherson and Logan, Jim paid for it since they gave him a ride. The trek inside the building wasn't so fortunate, as there was a line to get in. It was much easier when Ciel was with them, as he would strike fear into the bouncer, no matter what size or make they were with just a look and some polite encouragement. With Jim, it was not quite. Different kind of "scary," unfortunately. Thus, they waited until it was their turn until the big, gruff-looking bear at the entrance let them in.

Typical fanfare followed. They couldn't really talk with the loud music playing, so they headed to the dance floor to let loose a bit. Jim always liked this. Although he loved dancing with his husband the most, it was sometimes fun to just flail about and dance however he wanted. Quite frankly, however, it would be more fun on his own than with this large crowd, as if it wasn't with his husband or his friends, he didn't want to dance with anybody at all. Any man who tried to dance too close got a cold shoulder at best, which would escalate with their persistence. Luckily, Jim didn't have that problem too terribly much, as his posse would leave the dance floor pretty regularly whenever Logan got tired. His back needed rest every so often and because his boyfriend was a gentleman who could not leave his beau behind, he sat with him, prompting Jim to do the same. The menace didn't want to dance in that sea of people on his own. Once the incubus felt better, the cycle repeated.

They finally wandered over to the bar, as Logan wanted to try one of the "fancy" drinks that humans had to offer. Sorcerers could mix a mean drink, but this was uncharted territory for the incubus, so he planned to try at least one each time he visited. Kristopherson felt as though this would be a good time to order some food as well, while the menace simply sat there and waited on them.

"Hey, Alois." Kristopherson began.

"Yeah?" replied the menace.

"Have you ever thought about wearing a crop-top?"

"Not really. I'd probably look good in one, though."

"That's what I was going to say, but you've kinda stopped dressing like that, huh?"

"Like what?" Logan asked, his interest piqued.

"This guy used to wear his fancy private school uniform with short shorts every day." Kristopherson explained, turning his head to talk to the incubus while pointing at his friend. "He also dressed in drag a few times when we were in school, but he stopped when he stopped being such a no-good n'er-do-well."

"Ugh! Don't remind me…" Jim lamented with a roll of his eyes. "It was so cringey..."

"I'm upset I missed it!" Logan laughed with a big, bright grin. It was the kind where his eyes were closed for a moment. There was no doubt that he was trying to picture it. "You'd still probably look great!"

"I don't mind dressing 'femininely,' still. I know I'd still look good, too. It's just that I don't really want the attention anymore. I'm all for loud prints, tank tops, and wide necks, but I think crop tops are just not my thing anymore."

"Would you wear one for your husband, though?" questioned the incubus further.

"Of course I would! I'd wear a lot of things for him- within reason. That's actually probably one of the most 'scandalous' things he'd be okay with seeing."

"Never pictured him to be the type excited by lingerie." Kristopherson chimed in.

"He's not. Men's sexy underwear, maybe." replied Sir Phantomhive. "I can imagine what he'd say about me in a crop-top though…" Puffing out his chest, Jim lowered his tone and furrowed his brow before speaking in a posh accent. "'I like it. You're very cute, Jim. You have a cute belly-button.' Something like that."

"Now that, I can't imagine..." the wolfman relented.

"Bellybuttons can be cute. What about Logan's?"

"He's cute all over."

"Are you suggesting my husband isn't?"

"No, I didn't say that. He's just not as cute as Logan."

"You wanna fuckin' fight, mate?"

"Not really. I'd like to keep all of my appendages, thank you."

"Tough break, Logan." Jim said, leaning forward so he could look past Kristopherson and at the incubus on the opposite side of Mister Miles.

"I don't really blame him." Mister Kendrick answered. "You're kind of known for being brutal..."

"Why, thank you!"

As always, the conversations had by this trio were blunt and a bit risque at times. They continued to talk as Logan continued to sip his drink. He liked it. It tasted good and gave him a surprisingly good-sized buzz, but in some ways, that was a drawback, as it meant that he couldn't drink as many drinks as he normally would. He decided that the next round, he would need a glass of water too, probably. Then again, it was probably best not to get drunk, maybe? He wasn't sure. Somehow, it felt rude, given that neither of his compatriots could get that way. It was one of the drawbacks of going out with supernaturals. Some species just make terrible drinking buddies.

"Oh, do you want another one?" Kristopherson asked, having spotted his beau's empty glass. It was great timing though, because as soon as he said it, the empty glass was taken away and it was replaced with a new full one. Logan's eyes trailed from the glass up the arm of the bartender, finding a smile on the man's face.

He was a pretty ordinary-looking man, although he was pretty well dressed. He didn't really suit the camp of some of the other employees and patrons, wearing a long-sleaved, blue and white plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His short, brown hair was gelled in a few spikes in the front and his beard was a bit scruffy. If Kristpoherson caught him outside in any other context, he would have assumed that the man was painfully heterosexual, but the way that Logan smiled back at the bartender made him a bit nervous.

"Liam!" the incubus smiled back. He seemed to not only know this man, but was also pleasantly surprised.

"Long time no see!" the bartender replied, "Still like yourself a good drink, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess I do! I'm really surprised, though. When I heard you were working at a bar, I never imagined I'd run into you!"

"Ah, well, this isn't the same bar, probably, since I'm still pretty new." Liam informed, throwing a handtowel over his shoulder. "I used to work at a much nicer place, but they didn't like me taking off every full moon and let me go."

"That's a shame… Just another reason to keep working toward that owning-your-own-bar dream of yours."

"Yep." Turning his head, the bartender looked in the direction of Kristopherson and Jim. "So, who're your friends?"

"Well, that's Jim, over there. Jim Phantomhive. Don't piss him off." Logan said, pointing to the menace, prompting him to offer a little wave. Then, the incubus looped his arm around Kristopherson's. "And this is my boyfriend, Kris."

"Hey." Kristopherson greeted with a nod.

"'Sup?" Liam replied, returning the gesture.

"And this is Liam." Logan continued, now gesturing to the bartender with his free hand. "He's an old ex."

That made both Kristopherson and Jim especially wary. Jim checked him for the sake of his friends, while Kristopherson bodychecked him both as Logan's current boyfriend and as Logan's boyfriend, who was also a fellow werewolf. Still, he wasn't overtly aggressive. Instead, he smiled at Liam and held out his hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you!" Kristopherson greeted. There was no reason for him to not be civil. His feelings were irrational and he was aware of that fact. It did take a lot to not be petty and squeeze Liam's hand a bit tighter than he normally would when he shook it, however.

"Nice to meet you, too! You're a werewolf as well, eh? Logan really has a type, doesn't he?" Liam jested. Smug bastard. No, no, it was not worth getting heated about. After all, Logan was an incubus long before Kristopherson met him. He knew what he was signing up for.

"Haha, I guess." Mister Miles smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, making it seem a bit awkward.

"You're really different, though!" the bartender pointed out. "Logan's always had an eye for pretty manly men… Women, too!" He paused. "Oh! I don't mean to say you aren't manly, though! You're just a bit more tidy, is all."

"Kris almost won the arm-wrestling competition in Gehenna a while ago." Logan chimed in, trying to salvage things by playing to his beau's ego a bit. "I was only beaten by Jim's gardener."

"Finny's strength is scary, but so's Kris'." Jim added, although the latter wasn't true, in Jim's case. The demon was understandably unafraid of his friend's power, but he wasn't going to let his friend down. "He really got the audience hyped after beating an ogre! He may be pretty, but he's built like a fucking superhero."

"That right?" asked the bartender. "Must be fun, Logan?"

"He is." Logan squeezed Kris' bicep a bit in order to reassure him and and the wolfman calmed down. He had nothing to prove. He knew that his boyfriend was interested in only him. There was no reason for him to get mad or do what the Watchdog had been doing the past week and getting all "alpha male" in the situation. That would be ridiculous! Besides, Logan wouldn't be impressed by that sort of thing at all. There was no reason to not calm down and just have an ordinary conversation with Liam. Yet, with the full moon approaching, Kristopherson felt his stomach fluttering with unease.

"The bar's a lot higher, now, I guess. That's good, though." Liam said. "You shouldn't settle for someone who's only as good as your first."

Kristopherson stood at that, baring his teeth in an animalistic snarl. They had morphed into sharp fangs and his ears pointed as well His brown hair bristled and he puffed out his chest to look bigger than he already was. The man was being defensive and actually did something that he had never done in his life and had never really planned on doing. Kristopherson actually growled at the bartender! Liam stared back at him with a shocked look on his face- eyes wide and brows raised, as Logan and Jim tried to force Kristopherson into sitting back down. The latter of the two did the heavy lifting and somehow managed it.

"Easy… Easy..." the incubus cooed.

"Logan is actually Kris' first." Jim explained to Liam. "You're also wrong, by the way. I'm actually married to mine."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cause any offense..." the bartender said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He felt awkward. He screwed up really bad. "Wolf-outs are no joke. It's also pretty close to the moon, isn't it? My bad, mate. I really didn't mean anything by it."

Kristopherson didn't calm down all the way, however. He still wanted to growl. Mister Miles did regain his senses, though, and was able to cover his mouth and suppress the urge. He was mad and he felt stupid about it. It made no sense for him to feel this way, but he did.

"Come on, let's go get some air." Logan offered, tugging at his beau's arm. Kristopherson seemed reluctant for just a moment, but he inevitably went along with it. Turning to Jim, the incubus added: "We'll be back in a bit."

"Don't worry about it." The demon waved them off. "I'll be here." Jim watched as they disappeared into the club and amoung the sea of people. Silently, he wished them luck in finding a place quiet enough to talk.

They did, but it wasn't a great spot. Anyone could walk in on them at any moment. Upon entering the bathroom, the incubus checked the stalls to see if anyone was in there. It didn't look like it. The doors were all open, but he still needed to make this quick.

"Are we good?" Kristopherson asked.

"Yeah. Looks like it." the incubus said.

"No, not that. Are _we _good?" Mister Miles reiterated. "I… Kinda acted like an ass back there."

"Hmmm… Yeah, you did." casually answered Logan. That wasn't quite what his boyfriend wanted to hear. "Your culture is kind of sensitive about stuff like that, but really, there isn't much to be jealous of."

"Yeah, I kind of figured… I know I can't expect you to be all pure and virginal or whatever, but it still stings a bit."

"Really? Why?"

"It's like I have to measure up to him, y'know?" Kristopherson sighed, introducing the palm of his hand to his forehead. "God, I sound like one of those dodgy guys who goes after virgins because he sucks in bed… That's not how I mean it..."

"It's an ego thing. Ego things are irrational, but seriously, you don't have to feel jealous about Liam." Logan said again. "We were friends back when I stopped being able to eat regular food. Fortunately, I was in my late teens, so I had a friend or two who was impulsive enough to let me feed off of them. Initially, it was just convenient, but we gave dating a shot a little later because we were good friends."

"How'd you break up, then, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Drifted apart. Different goals, different interests, and we were just different people, by the end of it." Logan explained. "It was really uneventful. That kind of sums up the whole relationship, actually… He wanted to have his owning-his-own-bar dream and I didn't trust London. The sex slowed down to the point where he wasn't a viable option anymore, too. There was no reason for it. It just… died down. I'm not hostile toward him because there's nothing really to be hostile about. It's just… ordinary."

Kristopherson just nodded and hummed in acknowledgment. He seemed satisfied with this answer, but knew he didn't really need it. "Sorry." he said again. "I really shouldn't have gotten worked up about it. I'm an idiot."

"Nah. Just moody. You're always moody around the full moon and the fact that he's another werewolf doesn't really help, does it?"

"Kind off… That doesn't mean it's not stupid, though. In fact, it's even more stupid. You do have a type, though, don't you? Are you into werewolves are something?"

"It's a just a coincidence!" protested Logan with a pout.

"What about macho men?" Kristopherson questioned further. "He said you liked them..."

"No, Liam's a wrong on that. What I actually like are muscles. For the record, I like them on women, too." Once again, the poor wolfman was amazed by his boyfriend's bluntness. "Yours are the best, though. It's not just that, either! When you came into the store for the first time, you were a little scruffy, but you were really stylish and looked interesting from the beginning. After you got used to being a werewolf and perked up a little bit more, you started dressing in even more interesting ways, and between that, your muscles, and your overall attitude, I knew I had to have you!"

"You wanted me to be your fuckbuddy?" The wolfman arched his brow at the idea, his cheeks a bit flushed.

"No! I wanted to date you! You are not fuckbuddy material! You're prime beef! You're the type that you have to date or not get with at all!" Now both of their cheeks were flushed. Kristopherson's grew darker and Logan's looked odd due to his altered skintone that made him look human. He seemed very fired up over this. "Though you're a lot better in that department than Liam was, if it helps..."

"It does, actually." Mister Miles didn't know if that was true or not, since he mostly only did what Logan told him to, but he was willing to take the ego-boost. "Okay, I think I can try this again..."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, probably. Let's go back to Alois."

Eventually, they returned, approaching the bar yet again. All the while, they watched as the menace continued to chat with the bartender despite never ordering anything. What was the point? He couldn't get drunk, anyway. That did lead to an interesting question, though.

"So why are you a bartender if you can't get drunk?" the menace asked, prompting Liam to laugh.

"Why not? Sounds perfect, doesn't it? I'm always sober while doing it and I'm perfectly safe if anybody tries to start shit."

"Is there really a risk of getting drunk if you're the bartender?"

"People buy you drinks." Liam said. "It adds up after a while."

"To each their own, I guess." the demon replied before looking over his shoulder to see his compatriots. "Well, look who we have here~!"

"Sorry about that." Kristopherson apologised while rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not usually like that."

"I know. Usually, you're just a bit bitchy." his fair-haired friend unhelpfully laughed.

"I'm gonna beat your ass..."

"The fuck you are. Ciel can't even do that. You can't kill me, I'm a bad bitch."

"That's true, Kris." Logan said. "He's got you there… Didn't you say he's pretty brutal?"

"When I was in the third grade, everybody treated me like a criminal..." the menace falsely lamented until Kristopherson scolded him.

"Vine's dead, Jim!"

"Not in my heart, it's not."

"You guys are pretty funny." chuckled Liam from behind the bar. "The dynamic is completely off from what I expected."

"You should meet his husband." Kristopherson said, gesturing to the menace. "He's a riot."

"Oh, is he?" questioned the bartender.

"He looks like a mob boss."

"He's dreamy." Jim insisted, but Liam only looked toward Logan with a concerned look on his face, as if he was worried about the sorts of people the incubus was associating himself with.

"He's nice." Logan said in order to help soothe his doubts. "Very gentlemanly."

"Yeah, he's into that chivalry stuff pretty hardcore." added Mister Miles.

"Is he not here?" asked Liam.

"He doesn't like to dance." Kristopherson explained, although that was only partially true. It was simply easier to explain it this way than to go in depth, really, and the menace somewhat agreed. Jim did, however, wished that the subject would change.

He felt like the odd one out without much stake in the situation, and he also wasn't so keen on being left with Liam while the others talked for a bit. He knew that Kristopherson and Logan needed to sort out their problems and Liam was an alright man, but he didn't come here for this. He came to hang out with his friends. Now, the conversation turned to his husband and it only made him want the Watchdog to be there. It didn't matter if they danced or not. He would be fine sitting off to the side with him. He just didn't like being out of the conversation again.

He was only half listening to what was going on and sadly, he didn't drink, so he didn't even have that to occupy himself. The conversation had shifted to something else and he had no idea what was happening. Jim just sat there, nodding along, and hopping that no one would notice or ask him what he thought. Really, he just wanted to leave at this point, but his friends were also his ride. That left him with two options: Either he endure it, or he swallows his pride and asks someone else for a ride home. He supposed that he could call a taxi, but unfortunately, they could be rude to people trying to get home from this area at night- specifically, if they were seen near the building he sat in.

Thus, he had to text somebody else. Naturally, he picked his husband, asking him to send a car. He then informed his beau about the excuse he was about to make in order to free himself so that the driver kept consistent. After receiving an affirmative response, he put his phone back in his pocket and addressed the group.

"I'm sorry, guys, but I've gotta get back. They need me to look at a few dodgy-looking documents and make sure they're okay, at base." he said. He said it in his usual convincing way with no signs of deception in the slightest. His friends bought it, too. If they didn't, they pretended they did, at least.

"That sucks." Kristopherson said. "You need me to take you back?"

"Nah, I've got a car coming." Jim waved off with a smile. "You lot have fun, alright?"

"Alright."

"Good luck, Alois!" Logan added. "We'll see you soon, won't we?"

"As if you guys could keep me away from Andrea's." the menace laughed before getting up. "Take care."

* * *

**A/N: There's actually an additional four pages to this, but I'm just going to use them in the next chapter, because this one was getting way too long.**

**So the next chapter will be out much faster than usual~! Uh... Other than that, I don't really have all that much to talk about... I'm sorry, but the exciting bit is all in the chapter, this time. **

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	15. Don't Let Go!

Jim made his way toward the exit, weaving through people and avoiding their elbows and gossip. The feeling of stepping out of the building was surreal as the music faded into a muted pulsing beat and the street lacked all of the bells and whistles of the club. It was ordinary, like he was stepping back into the "real world" again. Only strangely, it felt like he couldn't leave completely in the first place. He doubted that he was getting "too old" for this, but that perhaps his heart just wasn't into the festivities of that evening. Setting foot back outside, however, everything was unmasked completely and the drunks walking out of the building, too, became more noticeable, as did the hookups that were having trouble making their way back home. According to Kristopherson, some of them didn't make it home, or even out of the club. Jim didn't know how much of that was true, but he didn't really want to think about it that hard.

It was lonely, waiting on the sidewalk. He realised that he probably should have waited inside, but it was a bit late for that now. The idea of getting back in line was unappealing and by the time he got through, Sebastian or Finny could pull up to the curb, so it was sort of a waste of time, he thought. Still, he didn't like how much he stood out, there. A couple of drunk folks called out to him, but he ignored them, for the most part, and only answered back when he had to.

"C'mon, lemme take you home, sweetheart."

"No thanks, I'm not particularly passionate about seeing a cardboard box on the motorway."

Always something to that effect. They were necessary comments, obviously. Sometimes, they'd get aggressive, but there was no need for him to really pay them any mind. The worst thing they could possibly do was nothing more than a small inconvenience to him. His nonchalance made most of them give up pretty quickly. It was scary to see all of your threats being met with indifference. The lack of fear in the blonde was frightening.

He was just about to suck it up and see if the bouncer would let him back in so he could have a place to actually sit, but after a few more minutes, he heard the sound of a familiar engine make its way around the corner. At first, he thought it was his imagination until he actually saw the motorcycle. He really hadn't expected it. In fact, he actually felt a bit bad that Ciel wound up coming to the club anyway. The thought crossed his mind that this might look like some ploy to get him inside to dance, but he tried to remedy this by quickly making his way over to Ciel as he pulled up to the curb.

"Hey." he greeted. "Thanks for coming. I was worried I might die."

"From boredom? You?"

"I know, right? Sorry for calling you out all this way. You could've stayed home and let Sebastian do it."

"Didn't occur to me."Ciel stated simply. His husband was his responsibility to take care of, after all. He assumed that when Jim asked for a ride, he was asking him. Looking up at his beau, Ciel was about to hand the menace the extra helmet on the back of the bike, but saw how his arms were folded tightly across his chest. Without another word, he took off his jacket and handed it to the blonde.

"What?"

"You look cold. Have you been standing out here this whole time?"

"Yeah, but it's fine, you don't have to do that."

"Just take it." Ciel insisted and hesitantly, the blonde did as he was told. As always, it was a bit too big for him, but it was cozy. He then put on the helmet on the back of the motorcycle and climbed on, wrapping his arms around Ciel's waist. His cheeks heated up a bit as his beau pressed his arms against Jim's, making sure they were firmly in place before putting both hands on the handlebars and taking off. It was a long drive, for a bike, but Ciel insisted that it was fine. His insistence did nothing to soothe the menace's conscience, however.

The driveway was dark when they pulled up and the engine died down only to be replaced by the sound of the springtime forest surrounding them when they parked. Jim wasn't particularly talkative when he dismounted and simply hung up his helmet where it belonged before removing his husband's jacket. "Here." he said, offering it back to his beau. Ciel only looked at it for a moment before taking it.

"Thanks." the bluenette said before going to hang up his own helmet. There was a long, awkward, pause as the blonde hung back from going inside first in order to see if there was anything he could do or say to his spouse.

"Thanks for picking me up." he finally settled on.

"Don't worry about it. I did it because I wanted to."

"I guess..." Jim didn't seem convinced. He looked down at the ground before his beau walked up to him, prompting him to start walking, too.

"Did you at least have some fun while you were there?"

"Yeah. Logan had to keep taking breaks because of his back, but that doesn't bother me. It just kinda started to suck when his ex showed up."

"Sounds like a pain."

"It was. He's not a bad guy, or anything. I just didn't want to talk to him."

"Hm." grunted the Watchdog in acknowledgment, waiting as his husband opened the door for him before stepping through. He had his turn when he opened the door to the master suite for Jim.

Ciel put up his jacket while the blonde took a seat on the couch and wondered what he was going to do for the rest of the evening. When the Watchdog came back in the room, he found his husband looking a bit blue, still. Leaning against the doorframe, he balanced all of his weight to one side and placed a hand on his hip as he watched Jim.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah..."

Blinking, Ciel furrowed his brow and pursed his lips together as he thought. His eye wandered around the room in search of a solution. Finally, he stood up straight and disappeared into the bedroom before reappearing again with his laptop tucked underneath his arm. Walking back into the front room, he set the device on the coffeetable between the two sofas, there, before moving the one that his husband wasn't sitting on. Needless to say, the odd action captured Jim's attention.

"What are you doing?" questioned the blonde, watching as Ciel pushed the coffeetable back to where the first sofa was. His husband didn't answer right away and instead, he approached the sofa that Jim was sitting on and began to push it as well. "Hey!"

"There..." Ciel said to himself while straightening his back. He admired his handiwork for just a moment before his eye landed directly on his confused beau. Then, a blush appeared on his stern face and he folded his arms. His chin was tilted so that his nose was in the air slightly and he cleared his throat in order to address the other man.

"You had better appreciate this." he stated. It was more of a declaration than a warning. "I completely refuse to humiliate myself in vain, do you hear me?"

"I hear you, but I still don't know what you're talking about..." Jim answered. Both his tone and his expression were clearly skeptical as to whatever his ridiculous husband's intentions were, causing Ciel's frown to deepen and his blush to darken.

Quickly, the Earl turned on his heel and walked back toward the coffeetable. He crouched down in front of it before opening the laptop sitting on its surface. He typed on the keyboard a bit before standing up and approaching the menace again. Music began to play. It was older and slow with a jazzy flair. Immediately, Jim knew what was happening as his husband held out a hand.

"Just go along with it and I'll do my best to lead, alright?" Ciel asked. "If I run into trouble, can I count on you to take over?"

Blinking, Jim stared at the Watchdog and then at the Watchdog's hand. Taking it, he was guided to his feet. "Sure..." Abruptly, he was tugged into position with one hand in Ciel's and the other on the Watchdog's shoulder. The Watchdog took his waist and gazed at him with an intensity that almost made it seem like he wanted to beat the Lion up rather then dance with him. Then, his feet stared moving.

Jim followed along, unsure of exactly what to expect. He had never heard this song before and it seemed like something that Ciel wouldn't ordinarily dance to. Sure enough, however, here he was, dancing away. It took the blonde a little while to figure out why exactly his beloved made that big speech before turning the music on, however. More precisely, it took him exactly until the moment the beat dropped.

Hell broke loose as the tempo speed up drastically and the music crashed before turning into a swing number. Ciel was actually keeping in step while it was hard for the menace to keep up. The blonde kept his head down, trying to read Ciel's feet without stepping on his shoes, but his focus was ripped away from that task as the Earl forced him from the comfort of his embrace as he twirled him, crashing the blonde back into his own chest on the second rotation. Jim felt safe there once more until Ciel let go with one hand, forcing the blonde to dance further away before tugging him this way and that way.

To be fair, although the blonde was struggling, Ciel wasn't exactly the most suave in his movement at all times during this encounter. In fact, a few things he tried were downright lame, but he tried, and that was all the blonde could see. The fair-haired Phantomhive's heart was pounding in his chest both from the exertion and from the thrill of the effort his husband was making for him. Indeed, he was very much appreciative. The deadliest blow, however, came when the Earl actually began to relaxed. He cracked a bit of a smile and it shot the menace right through the heart.

"Ugh!" he grunted, overwhelmed with the shock of it all. What was happening? Where was he? Jim wasn't sure that he hadn't accidentally stepped into the Twilight Zone instead of his house by mistake.

"Is it bad?"

"No! It's-! It's just a lot..." the menace muttered softly.

"We can stop, if you want-"

"Don't you fucking dare!"

Ciel laughed at that, but he also disobeyed, coming to a complete stop as he instead opted to pull his beloved in close and to squeeze him tightly. "Ah, you're cute." the bluenette sighed. "You're so cute, Jim..."

Instead of scolding his spouse for disobeying, the baronet held Ciel back. "Well… I'm really surprised… I'm really happy, too… I thought you hated this?"

"I… I'm not the most confident about it." Ciel explained. "Dancing is one of those things were it's really easy to look stupid while doing."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you… I'm sorry..."

"I know. It's alright. Every man wants to look cool in front of the person he loves, though. I was very skeptical at first, but I was getting comfortable with it while you were leading me."

"Then why did you get nervous again?"

"You let go." the bluenette said. "After that, it just felt like I was flailing."

"I'm sorry..."

"I've forgiven you already?"

"No, I mean- I'm sorry for just… going for it without really thinking about how you might feel." Jim apologised, not wanting to look directly at the other man's face. "After all of that worrying about whether or not I'm taking advantage of you, I pull something like that… It was shitty of me and I should apologise for it."

"I see..." nodded the bluenette. "That's true, but I'm not mad. I was just embarrassed… which... makes me mad..."

"Not helping..."

"The point is, I'm doing this now because I want to. It's my duty to take care of the people in my household and ensure their happiness, but more selfishly, I don't like seeing you coming back from an outing that was supposed to be fun all upset." Ciel informed. "I thought being able to dance like you wanted might cheer you up."

"You spoil me way too much..." Jim pulled away from his beau, placing his hands on the other man's shoulders while wearing a more determined look. "You need to let me take care of you, too!"

"I am."

The blonde blinked as his beau sighed and used his shoulder as a pillow. Letting out a sigh, himself, Jim released his husband for a moment, only to run his fingers through his blueish black locks. "Can I lead for a bit?" asked the baronet.

Jim was excited to see this part of his beloved. As more and more time went on, he got to see more and more of his spouse opening up and having fun. Certainly, his pride was still in the way a lot of the time, but it was significantly less so than before. As much as Jim wanted to see all of it, he accepted that he needed to be patient and let Ciel discover these things on his own. The reward once he did was always worth the wait. The Watchdog was still the same stubborn, stern, and prideful man as he always was, as was his nature, but he was willing to give things a try, if his spouse was willing to work with him. Thus, it really shouldn't have come as any surprise when they arrived back at headquarters a day later and received an update on the Earl's state.

"It's red." Wink stated dryly as she sat at her desk in the research department, wearing her dirtied labcoat. In her hands was a glass container full of red liquid as she held it out to the Phantomhive's view. "You're clear of the potion."

"What?!" Ciel demanded with a flushed face. His brow furrowed and his nostrils flared, all the while his husband's face turned it's own pinkish hue. The witch seemed unimpressed with the Watchdog's attitude.

"It looks like it's been out of your system for a few days, at least." the woman said, putting a lid on the jar in her hands before carefully placing a "hazardous waste" sticker on the side. She handed it to an agent in a hazmat suit before it was finally taken away. "I thought you'd be happy about that?"

"No, I am… Thank you..." embarrassed corrected the Watchdog. He and his spouse said their pleasantries to the woman before taking their leave. They made the trek back to their vehicle in near silence. Only they made was the sound of their feet hitting the ground below them.

"So..." began the menace, preparing to say what was on both of their minds.

"Hm." his beau grunted back.

"You were dancing on your own without any love potion helping you, weren't you?"

"Shut up." Ciel grumbled.

"You really wanted to dance with me, didn't you?"

The Watchdog took in a deep breath, his scowl worsening, before deflating as he let it all out in the form of a sigh. "Yeah… I did..."

"Ah, well..." grinned the menace, looking ahead of them again. "Maybe the thought of having the potion in you helped!"

"It did..." Ciel relented. "I don't think I would have been able to do that if I didn't have that to fall back on..." He raised his eyebrows as his husband looped their arms together, placing his free hand on Ciel's forearm. Jim made it a little harder to walk by leaning his head against the Watchdog, but the Earl couldn't find it within himself to complain.

"It worked, though, didn't it?" Jim questioned.

"Yeah..." nodded the Watchdog, finally cracking a fraction of a smile. "I suppose it did."

"Think you might want to dance with me like that again sometime?"

"The bridge is already crossed, so I don't see why not."

A giggle bubbled up from within the fair-haired Phantomhive's throat. "I'm glad."

"Me too. We didn't have as bad of a time with this as I thought we would."

"Wanna do it again?"

"It would be your turn, if we did."

"I think I'm good." said the menace, prompting the both of them to laugh. While the potion had worn off, the two of them were still very much in love. Perhaps they were even a sliver stronger than before.

* * *

**A/N: Fucking nerds... They cannot be stopped. They're simply too powerful...**

**I actually kind of forgot what all happened in this chapter because I was writing the next one? This chapter was actually done the day after the one before it, but I was hoping for some feedback so I could tweak things before I posted it. That never happened, though, so there's no point in holding it hostage, I guess. **

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	16. The Lady and The Moon

It was a really tiresome day for Oliver. The current troops that he was training weren't nearly as proficient and easy to handle as the Whelan clan's faoladh were and it drained the man's energy and morale. He simply didn't know how good he had it until he started training a group of rowdy lads who think they know about "monsters." He was ready to be home, but he had another mission immediately upon arrival. He shuffled out of his uniform and into some houseclothes before heading back downstairs to the kitchen. There, were a few of the house's servants, huddled in a corner.

"I don't want to bring it!" one of them said. "I don't want to be eaten!"

"They said it won't bite, but still, I don't want to risk it…" another replied. "Is there anyone else who can take it?"

"It's not the job of anybody else who's working today, so we can't exactly force it on them."

"I have a silver cross necklace. Do you think it'll help?"

"Please don't use that on my friend." Oliver said, appearing next to the whispering group, causing them to jump. The servants bowed and curtsied to him, showing him the respect that he is entitled to.

"Our, apologies, sir..." one of them said with their head down, but Oliver didn't acknowledge them right away. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the cart that they were arguing over. It was covered in a pile of uncooked meat and was ready to be delivered, but none of them wanted to go. It wasn't surprising, but they couldn't be entirely at fault, however. Most humans didn't understand werewolves, so it was only natural that they would be afraid. Oliver wasn't, however, as he began to pull the cart along.

"I'll take it." he said. "I'll have to come back, though. Can one of you get a big bowl of water ready for me?"

"Yes, sir..." They seemed uncertain, but didn't want to argue. They knew he wouldn't listen, anyway, just as he wouldn't listen whenever one of them insisted to assist him with anything else. Oliver was a prideful man. While it was a bit difficult to maneuver the cart with one hand, he managed by dragging it behind him. There were a few close calls when rounding corners, but he made it to the room his lycanthrope friend was staying in without dumping a pile of raw meat in the floor.

When he approached the door, he grabbed the edge of the tray with one hand and lifted it just enough to wedge what remained of his forearm underneath it. It was tricky to balance at first, but he managed to hold it. Unable to knock, however, he tapped the bottom of the door with his foot before calling out: "Room service!"

No reply at first, but a low, strange-sounding voice eventually answered. "Just leave it!" it said. From the accent, it was obviously Claire, but her demand left him looking to the cart as he wondered how exactly he was going to fulfill that.

"I don't think I can set it back down without dropping it! Just open the door!" There was quiet again. She was hesitating. "I've already seen you like this, so don't worry about it!" Still no answer. Oliver had to make another suggestion. "I'll close my eyes. Just take it!"

Immediately, he did what he said he would and closed his eyes. He waited quietly for what seemed like forever, until he heard the door open. It was only a crack, however- just enough for Claire to look out at him through to make sure he kept his promise. Then, it opened wider and Oliver could feel the tray being lifted from his grasp. He waited all the way until he heard the door close again before he looked. Seeing no one, he sighed a bit before putting his hand back on the handle of the cart.

"I'm going to go get your water, now." he announced. "Do you need me to bring you anything else?" Once again, he waited. Then, the same, low, voice was heard.

"No, I'll be fine." it said. "Just the water, please."

"Alright. If you need anything else, just call my phone. I'll keep it on me."

"My fingers can't work a phone..."

"Then I'll just come by to check on you every so often."

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do. You're my guest. It's my job to make sure that you're comfortable." Mister Midford dutifully informed. "It's no trouble. Anyway, I'll be back in a bit."

Before anything else could be said, he was gone, but Claire could count on him to do exactly what he said he would. Sure enough, he soon came back with a large bowl fit for making cakes on the cart. It had nothing of the sort inside, however. Just tap water.

"I'm back!" he announced. "I don't think I can lift this one. I'll roll it close to the door and you can take it. I'll close my eyes again."

Once again, he kept his word, and waited for the sounds of the door opening and closing. With that, he asked once again: "Is there anything else you might need?"

After a while, there was a reply. "Is there a spare toothbrush I can have?" the woman asked on the other side. "It's difficult to reach all of my teeth with this one."

"Do you mean one with a longer handle?"

"If possible."

"I don't know if they make anything like that, but I'll look." Sadly, his search came up with nothing other than a plain, regular-sized toothbrush. When he returned, the tray was in the hallway in front of the door.

"Sorry, I couldn't find anything bigger." he said. "I'll leave it on the tray, though. Do you need anymore food or anything?"

There was a pause. Oliver waited while Claire thought about what she might need, closing his eyes and trying not to nod off while standing. He was startled awake again by the sound of the door closing.

"Why don't you go to sleep?" his quest questioned, but Oliver knew that the answer wouldn't be satisfactory.

"I need to make sure you're taken care of." he replied. "We're having trouble finding people who want to come here, but I don't mind. I've seen plenty of werewolves, by now, so it just doesn't bother me."

"Figures…" Claire muttered. "You may say that you're fine with it, but most of the people who are are only so in theory, not in practise. My form is often considered grotesque by humans."

Blinking, the other man said: "I guess it would take more getting used to before I'm completely comfortable with it, but I can't practise if I never see werewolves." Grunting, he took a seat on the floor next to the door. "Hey, Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask a dumb question?"

"You're going to, anyway."

"I guess you're right." the man chuckled. "I was wondering if werewolves think each other are pretty like humans do."

"Depends on the werewolf." the woman replied. "I suppose that a werewolf who grew up around humans wouldn't think so, but the faoladh find appreciation for each other."

"Have you ever 'appreciated' anyone?"

"Not intimately, no." Claire stated. "My father wouldn't have allowed me to."

"Well, most dads are that way about their daughters..."

"My father tricked our people into thinking that it was impossible for female faoladh to reproduce in order to turn us into his personal fighting force. Getting married was for the men and a means for them to consolidate power. I had to always be fighting and getting ready to fight."

"Oh… I'm… sorry. I completely misinterpreted that."

"You did, but it's alright." Oliver thought he might have heard the woman chuckle as she said this, but it was hard to tell.

"Would you ever want a boyfriend, now?" he questioned, pressing his back flat against the wall. On the other side, his compatriot did the same.

"Perhaps. Although, both werewolf and human men seem to find me to be a little… 'intimidating,' so it may not be in the cards."

"You're not that scary. Men like that are just insecure. They can't stand not being able to control you, so they're not even worth your time."

"Despicable."

"Pathetic, more like."

There was a brief pause between the two before they both laughed. The sound caught Oliver off-guard. It wasn't because the sound was deep and didn't sound like Claire's voice, but rather, that she made the sound at all.

"Ha! I finally made you laugh!" proudly declared Mister Midford.

"No, it must be your imagination."

"No, no, I heard it. You definitely laughed!"

"You are mistaken."

The two continued to keep each other company through the night on opposite sides of the door, even as fatigue began to take it's toll on poor Oliver. He yawned and in spite of Claire's insistence, refused to go to bed. The man was far more interested in talking, even as he became less coherent and mumbled his responses. After a while, he stopped saying anything back at all, save for the occasional snoring. When he woke up again, he was very disoriented, but more notably, he was very hot.

He sat up, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as he regained his bearings. He wasn't in the hallway anymore. He was in a good-sized room on a sofa. Upon further inspection, he found out why he was so overheated, too. While he did have on a blanket, he was also covered by a large cape with fur trim on the collar. Immediately, he recognised it and smiled. He must have looked cold, since he didn't have fur, himself!

With a grunt, the man threw his legs over the side of the couch and found his house shoes. After slipping them on, he got up and walked around, surprised that he was actually allowed in here. Claire's room, however, didn't seem to have Claire in it. There was no tall wolf-person to be seen anywhere, but he hadn't checked the time. He wasn't looking for the right thing and nearly missed the woman despite standing right next to the bed. When he spotted her, Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin! Quickly, he placed his hand over his mouth so that he wouldn't make sound. The man soon relaxed, however, but did perhaps the creepiest thing he had ever done in his life.

Curiosity overcame him as he had never seen the woman without her guard up. Her hair was not pulled back in her usual ponytail and was surprisingly fluffy-looking, indicating just how tight she usually kept it. Her eyebrows weren't furrowed, either. Oliver didn't know why he assumed that she would have the same, stern, expression she always had in her sleep, but she didn't. She looked peaceful and her face wasn't obscured by her eyepatch. There was a clear scar that led up her cheek and across her eye. She was pretty. Oliver felt bad for thinking that, since he doubted that he was supposed to see that. Thus, he very quickly and quietly took his leave, being very careful when shutting the door behind him.

He did eventually return, however, with his cart in tow. He knew that the transformation took it's toll both when changing into one's wolf form as well as out of it, therefore he needed to make sure that the woman had the opportunity to have breakfast. When he arrived at the door, he knocked out of courtesy and waited. He waited a little while, but the door eventually opened. When it did, he saw Claire with her hair still down, only now she was wearing her eyepatch and her cape. She was holding it closed with her hands and seemed cold. Oliver thought it might be a bit shocking to go from being covered in fur to not having much at all.

"Good morning." he said.

"Good morning..." the woman replied back, doing her best to suppress a yawn, but failing.

"I brought you breakfast. There's a lot here, but I didn't know how much you needed. If it's not enough, tell me and I'll go get something else."

"Alright. Thank you. You're very kind." Claire said before turning around and walking back into her room. She slipped a hand out of her cape to beckon Mister Midford inside. "Come in. I only look as frightening as usual, now."

"Right." the man chuckled before doing what he was told. She didn't ask him if he needed help and he wouldn't have accepted it if it was offered. They understood each other in that way. The woman sat on the sofa, sitting with a prim and proper duchess slant with her cape still covering her as Oliver rolled the cart closer. He tried to wrangle the tray into his grasp, but the food on top of it wasn't arranged in one big mountain, this time, so it was a lot more delicate. This time, he allowed the woman to help him as she silently stood up and grabbed the handles of the tray before setting it down on the coffeetable. In this exchange, however, his face flushed as he discovered something alarming.

"You're not wearing clothes?!" he balked, trying his best to remain calm, as the woman was clearly not vexed. Sitting back down again, Claire seemed more interested in the food than his surprise.

"Yes?" the woman replied, lifting the metal cover on the tray, revealling one of the plates of food underneath. She sniffed it and sighed in appreciation before setting the cover to the side and delicately grabbing her knife and fork. "Nudity is a given consequence to lycanthropy. I'm not going to dirty one of my uniforms for something like this. Why?"

"You- I- Uh… That's not-" Oliver stammered, trying to avert his gaze. There wasn't much exposed, now, at anyrate, but he was worried that his eyes would fixate on any exposed sliver of skin.

"Have you never seen a woman before?"

"No! I have! I definitely have, but usually, it's, uh… Y'know… Private..."

"'Private?'" the woman echoed with a tilt of her head. She very quickly went back to her meal, however, taking appropriate-sized bites and observing proper table etiquette in front of Mister Midford. "Oh, it's really good..."

"It's not appropriate, to humans..." the man tried to explain.

"But it is in private?"

"Yes!"

"So, like this?"

"Wha- what-?! N-no! No, not like this! Not like this at all!"

"You're being very contradictory. What do you mean, then?"

"It's- Ugh! You're only supposed to see each other like that when you're in a relationship!" Oliver said, only then, when he glanced at her, did he see recognition in her eyes.

"Oh, do you mean reproduction? I suppose that makes sense..."

"Right! Do you see what that's weird, right?"

"I do. You never have any fur, so it doesn't make sense for you to take off your clothes unless it's more practical. I suppose if you only ever did that in situations like that, you would associate lacking clothes with shame."

"That's… That's not quite what I was going for, but it's close enough and you do kind of have a point, I guess..." the man was forced to relent. "You shouldn't do that in front of humans, though. They'll get the wrong idea."

"I see..." Claire nodded. "I will respect your sensibilities."

"Thanks, but… Wait, is that a thing with the faoladh? Do you just… run around naked?"

"Of course. When we can't find proper clothes that stretch or have enough room when we shift, it makes more sense to take them off, or else, they just tear or get worn out. The capes keep us warm when we turn back."

"Oh, so that's why… Very practical." Oliver smiled a bit as he was starting to relax. "So, this is pretty normal, for you?"

"Yes. When we're around each other, no one minds, but come to think of it, the succubi at Lexington's house did and so did Abhartach's family. I suppose it's the same principle as with humans. They always looked freezing."

"Is that why you put all those layers on me? Did I look cold to you?"

"You always look cold. I don't know how you stand it."

"That was very nice of you. Thanks for taking care of me." Now the man was completely at ease. The more the woman talked, the less strange it became. It simply didn't seem worth worrying about, to that extent.

"You're welcome. If you were a faoladh, I would have huddled with you, but I didn't think that you, as a human, would care to wake up to that."

"Yeah, I'm glad you didn't do that, but probably not for the reason you're thinking of..."

"Oh, I get it..." the woman blinked, understanding now what he was referring to. "I wouldn't have meant it that way. In winter months, faoladh will often huddle together, if there's no proper heating. That's what we did when the barracks were cold."

"Wait, no, I know you mean in your wolf form, but- oh, nevermind..." When he looked at the woman's face, she seemed unimpressed. "I know that's not what you meant!"

"Humans are perverse… I'll have to be careful of that..."

"I-! Yeah, you probably should..."

"I didn't realise that your species was so animal-like…"

"What? No! No, no, God, no! I can control myself perfectly fine, thank you. We're not like… that. We're definitely,_ definitely,_ not like that! I didn't mean to make you think that at all! It's just- most people will get flustered when they're in a situation that's a bit… y'know… suggestive, according to your culture..."

"Probably. I didn't realise this form was so appealing to you."

"I-! You-! I mean, you would be to most men. You're a pretty woman..."

To that, the woman frowned. She didn't want to be told that by a human and especially not Oliver Midford. Setting down her utensils, she stood up, allowing her cape to engulf her. Then, without a word, she began to change. Hair grew, her teeth sharpened and her face enlongated. She grew another foot in height easily and towered over the man before leaning forward so that she was eye level with him as she bared her fangs.

_"__Am I, really?" _she asked in a low, growl-like voice, startling the man. His eyes widened and he jumped as his mind quickly tried to process what it was he was seeing. Then, he relaxed a bit.

His hand opened and closed a few times at his side before tentatively, he raised it. It was Claire's turn to be startled as he placed it on the side of her lupine face. After that, his smile returned as her snarl faded from the shock.

"Hey! It _is_ soft!" he pleasantly observed. "Thick, too… Aren't you _too_ warm?"

With a snort, a large, clawed, hand reached out and grabbed Oliver's shoulder, pushing him away. Immediately, the woman regretted her choice of action as the man fell flat on his rear. She straightened her back, but averted her gaze. Now, she felt ashamed. But the man simply stood back up and dusted himself off after recovering his bearings. Naturally, being shoved by a werewolf would frighten anyone, especially given his personal experience with this one in particular, but he read the room.

"Sorry." he said. "I'll leave you to your breakfast, then." Once he left the room, the woman continued eating, dropping her manners. When the next knock came at the door, however, she was fully dressed with her hair done up and her overall stature tidy, despite the fact that she was planning on sleeping all day.

Upon opening the door, she found no one there. Instead, there was just the cart, with a few small dishes on it. Amoungst the metal covers, however, there was a small note. She didn't want to read it. She didn't want to read it because she knew who it was from. She knew that she had to, however. It would be rude if she didn't, even if she was simply anticipating anger at what she had done. Picking up the note and unfolding it, however, she was pleasantly surprised.

_"__You shapeshifted again, so I got you some snacks. There's also a heating pad in case you're still cold or your still sore anywhere! Take it easy, today and drink some water! -O.M."_

The woman did the unthinkable after reading it. She actually smiled. Setting down the note, she lifted one of the covers, and true to the man's word, there was more food. The Midford family was certainly hospitable. She would have to formally thank them, but mostly Oliver. The man was probably the strangest human she had ever met, but she didn't mind his presence. It was going to be rather unfortunate once she found her own place to live. The man might not have been a werewolf, but he was interesting. Perhaps he was even potentially good company.


	17. A Day In Paradise

The day was bright, albeit cloudy, over the English countryside as the world was blessed by the lush greens of spring as winter slowly withered and died, only to be reborn anew. All was still and quiet, save for the sound of distant hammering down the winding country road. Where the asphalt gave way to dust, dirt, and gravel roads, was a farm where those from the neighboring village would never go. Small, wood, cabins kept popping up on the property and strange lights could be seen. Torches, lanterns, and a great, big, bonfire appeared at night accompanied by the sound of howling. It carried for miles, at times. The only person who didn't already live on the farm that would go near there was the mailman, and that was only out of obligation. Fortunately, the mailbox was at the very, very, end of the long driveway leading up to the farm, so he didn't have to get too close.

A truck came rolling up the road with wooden pallets stacked high in the bed and showed no signs of stopping until it reached the driveway. It came to a stop in front of the mailbox and an arm reached out to retrieve the contents before actually turning onto the road to the farm. It travelled until arriving at what appeared to be a makeshift village of those small, wooden cabins. Then, the truck came to a halt and those inside leapt out as people on the farm approached. The driver and one of the passengers went to the back of the vehicle and began to unstrap the pallets from their secure position with gravel crunching beneath their feet. The remaining passenger left them to their business while unfastening the thick stack of letters.

She started slipping them in boxes outside of some of the houses. Some of the letters were just handed to the recipients in person, if she came across them, although some of them refused to take them. In that case, she dumped the rejected letters into the firepit before carrying on to the main farmhouse, saying "hello" to people along the way.

Some of them were harvesting what needed to be harvested now and preparing to harvest what needed to be in the summer. Many were working on housing, however, as it was the most immediate problem. They needed enough homes to house everyone so that those who were commuting no longer had to and could stay permanently. Their small, "village" was also growing with more people taking interest on a regular basis.

There were some strange customs that would immediately turn people off of the idea, however. One of the things that one would notice upon arrival was the fact that almost everyone was wearing different coloured collars. Most of them were blue, but a few were black. The black-collared ones seemed to walk with their heads a bit higher, but more pressingly, was how people interacted. Strange animal-like behaviour was exhibited by the residents. Barking, yipping, growling, nuzzling, among other things. No one seemed to find it out of place, however, so they carried on, doing the things that they needed to do, tending to animals and shearing sheep and the like, while the woman delivering mail reached the farmhouse.

It was tall and old, but built sturdily from heavy stones. The woman knocked once before being greeted by a black-collar that peered down at her. He was tall and he wanted to know why she was there.

"Mail for Mister Granger." she said, offering the envelope to the man. Silently, he took it before going back inside with a grunt.

"Would it kill you to be a bit more kind to the people who stop by?" called a voice from further inside the house after the door was shut. It came from a rather sturdy-looking middle-aged man with a kind face and snowy white hair as he sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper. He put down his paper and held out his hand, taking the envelope before quietly opening it up. Upon reading its contents, however, he frowned deeply and let out a sigh.

"Another incubus was found dead in London." he said, shaking his head. "They keep having trouble out there… They should just come here, instead."

"We don't have the capacity for it, yet. We need more people here, if they're going to have a good hunting ground." said a voice from the other end of the table. He was a wolfman, a faoladh, wearing robes that were carefully wrapped around him as he whittled, dropping woodchips into a bucket on the floor.

"I suppose you're right..." Mister Granger said, putting the letter down on the table. "I just wish we could do more."

"Maybe someday, but not today." the wolfman answered before setting his carving down on the table as well. It was the likeness of a wolf, but served no real practical purpose other than decoration.

"An idol?" the other man questioned.

"Could be. We'll see what use someone makes of it eventually." Standing up, the wolfman adjusted his garments before putting his hands behind his back. "I'm going to make my rounds. There's a new black-collar I need to check on."

"Have fun." Mister Granger replied, picking his paper back up and reading it.

The faoladh walked with bare feet, feeling the cool earth in his soles as he stepped out into the sunlight. A few people saw him, but none of them were afraid. Instead, they seemed rather happy and greeted him warmly.

"Hey, Mister Brodrick!"

"Hello." he greeted with a light wave. "How are things?"

"We just got another batch of pallets! We could probably build a small shack with them, but with a few more, we could make a house!"

"They should go for a house." the wolfman, Mister Brodrick, said. "You should go tell them."

"Will do!"

He saw people picking fruit and tending to the animals, he saw the lush green that surrounded their home. It was peaceful. It was a far cry from the chaos he once knew. Mister Brodrick carried on, venturing toward the wooden houses and watching as people continued to assemble them. There were a few still disassembling the wooden pallets, gathering the nails and wood and passing them along to be reassembled into a livable structure. Mister Brodrick stopped at one house, in particular.

It was clearly in the process of being painted on the outside, with dark blue paint brushed on the wood, but was interrupted on the first coat. The wolfman stepped on the porch and nearly towered over the building, but gently knocked in order to alert the person inside of his presence. Seeing the doorhandle move, he bent down a bit so that he was looking at the person inside. When the door opened, he smiled and the person on the other side stood up straighter.

"Hello, Mister Brodrick!" the man inside the house greeted, trying to sound enthusiastic despite looking miserable. He was deathly pale in his complexion and was drenched in his own sweat. His eyes were bloodshot and despite his best efforts to appear more dutiful, he couldn't maintain the posture for long. "How are you today?"

"I'm well, Shadow. It's a lovely day, today, isn't it?" Mister Brodrick replied. "Oh! But I suppose you haven't seen much of it, since you're resting. My apologies."

"It's fine, sir."

"I just wanted to see how you were doing. You look unwell… But, that's normal, of course. Your biology is changing."

"I didn't expect it to hurt so much..." the resident of the home confessed. "You only ever seeing the full moon transformation hurting in movies… Usually, people just wake up fine the next day..."

"Humans are ignorant to our nature." Brodrick said with a sympathetic nod. "You are one with your spirit now, however, so your suffering is not in vain."

"I'd do it all over again if I had to."

"You're very brave! But you should rest… I was just worried, but it appears that my worries were unfounded! Please, go back to bed. We're looking forward for you to rejoin us."

"Thank you, Mister Brodrick, I will."

"Blessings to you." the faoladh said.

"Blessings to you."

With that errand done, the wolfman hadn't much else to do but oversee progress on this and that. Construction was still going strong and his people were still content. He hoped that things would always be this peaceful.

Never in his wildest dreams, would Brodrick would have imagined he would have a place like this. He also couldn't imagine that there were humans who were aware of their shortcomings and would willingly cast their weaker form aside. Everyone was looking forward to the first harvest and to the possibility of becoming self-sufficient enough to no longer require money from the outside world. As the day grew later, those with jobs out in the realm of humanity began to return. They were greeted with howling and barking as they returned with more food for all of them. After that, the dinner preparations commence.

There were always a lot of people to feed, so it was always a grand operation. When the operation was small, everyone could eat at the kitchen table in the farmer's house, but one of the first things they built was a hall where they could both eat and prepare food when they couldn't do so outdoors. Now that it was heating up, however, they could finally sit around the bonfire, cook their meat, and be merry together under the stars.

"Before we take this meal into ourselves, I want all of you to close your eyes." Brodrick announced in a loud voice, holding out his arms as he stood. "Feel the wind hitting your face. Take deep breaths. Smell the smoke and listen to the crackling of the fire. Take it into yourself." he said, looking out at the group as they did as instructed. "If you are sitting wood, feel its bumps and grooves. If you are sitting on earth, feel the soil, rock, and grass with your fingertips. Appreciate that it is here, with you, and that you are able to savour it. Do so. Savour it. Do what much of humanity has forgotten to do. Feel it in your heart and soul and return to nature, even if it is just for a moment. Now, look up!"

Opening their eyes, the group looked up at the night sky and took in the sight of the stars. "This is what humanity is missing." the wolfman declared. "One day, when you are ready, all of you will become one with your true spirit and rejoin nature, just as you were intended to." He paused, waiting for everyone to finish their applause before he began to sit down. "Now, please enjoy the meal that your kin have prepared for all of us."

Just like the night before, dinnertime was like a party, interspersed with howling to the moon and conversation. People talked about things that interested them, concerned them, or about nothing at all. Brodrick did the same, howling and laughing jovially with his people. They carried on only until the meal was finished before returning to their homes and going to bed.

The next morning brought more of the same. People awoke to their alarms and to the sound of tires crunching in the gravel as people left for work, but the sound was soon drowned out by the singing of birds and the barking and playing of pet dogs. More and more people began to exit their homes once they were awake enough to do so before going back to their jobs on the farm. The sound of hammers striking nails filled the countryside once more and carried on into the afternoon.

Ordinarily, this sound would keep people away. The locals were curious about what they were building, but not enough to actually seek it out. On this day, however, the crunching of boots walking down the gravel road approached the farm. Everyone continued with their business, maintaining their peaceful community, when a few of them stopped to look at the stranger who had turned down their driveway and made good progress along the lengthy walk to them.

As he got closer, they made out details about him, like the massive backpack on his back and the violin case in his hand. On his head was a deerstalker hat and he was wrapped with a tunic over his shirt. Ashes were clearly visible on the front of it despite the efforts to dust it off. They gathered in his bushy, red, beard, as well, put there by the lit incense stick held by a wooden stick between his teeth. Very strange indeed. He looked toward the village with one open eye and a sour look on his face. A few of the villagers scratched his head while staring right at him, while a few others ran toward the farmhouse.

Upon reaching the door, fists pounded against it, but it opened when the black-collar on the other side felt like it. When he did, anxious voices called out, explaining that there was a stranger at the front, calling Mister Brodrick and Mister Granger to action. They looked at each other before abruptly standing. Mister Granger stepped out first, looking out at the commotion while Brodrick only stuck out his head. They couldn't see what was happening right away, but since it was a stranger, they were assumed to be human, so before they advanced any further, Brodrick shifted into his human form, taking the appearance of a man with a square face and dark, brown, hair. He was a bit scruffy, due to having been shifted, but he passed as human, albeit an extremely eccentric one. They walked down the path to where the crowd had gathered, only to find the man in a rather relaxed state. His backpack was revealled to be a wooden box wrapped in fabric with a few straps on it. He sat down on top of it with his violin case in his lap. The man with the red beard watched as the crowd parted for Granger and Brodrick and he stood up, observing that they must be important.

"Good afternoon." he greeted with a light nod of his head. "You in charge?"

"Yes." Brodrick boldly answered, causing the man next to him to give him a look. "My name is Tadgh Brodrick. This is the man who owns the farm, Hammond Granger. Can we help you?"

Respectfully, the man with the red beard took off his cap, revealing a full head of fiery hair. "Maybe, maybe not." he said. "Ah, that sounds awfully cryptic, doesn't it? My apologies. You see, I am, for lack of a better term, a wandering merchant, of sorts. I heard strange things from this area, and thought that this might be a good place to do business. Tell me, is it true? Are there supernatural beings, here?"

One could practically feel the oxygen escaping the area as everyone there immediately became uncomfortable. Many of them turned to Brodrick for reassurance, but the man simply frowned. "I think you need to leave." he said.

"Oh, dear… I appear to have set off your alarm bells in my bluntness..." Putting his cap back on, the man with the red beard set down his violin case and held out his hand. "Perhaps this could clarify things?"

In his hand appeared a flickering, black, flame. The shocking sight took the crowd completely aback. Magic! It was honest-to-God magic! Then, as the flame died down, a flower appeared in its place.

"Queen Anne's lace..." the merchant observed. "It means 'haven' or 'sanctuary.' I wish I could offer you a flower that conveys peace, but alas, I didn't find any along the way here. I hope you will accept this as a sign that you may trust my presence, here."

Silence fell on the crowd and all hesitated in their next actions. Soon, however, Mister Brodrick stepped forward, walking on the harsh gravel with his bare feet before taking the flower from the other man's hand. To his surprise, it was indeed real.

"I am Tadgh Brodrick and I am the chief of this village." he said, causing the merchant to smile.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord." the man with the red beard replied with a light bow. "You may call me 'Gerlois.' I am a wandering supernatural merchant. I have traveled to many places that house supernaturals and have gathered my wares, there. Gehenna, Pyestock, or even after being graciously invited into private homes- I've been to many places."

"So you say..." mused the chief, folding his arms and rubbing his chin. "What sort of wares do you have?"

"Well..." the merchant began, turning his bag around before unwrapping the fabric. From the look of it, it appeared to be a cabinet! Upon opening it, however, he revealed a series of drawers. Opening them, he began making his sales pitch. "I have everything from mundane household necessities like candles for spells and homemade lipbalm made by a warlock of Gehenna, to typical supernatural fanfare like shade gel and glamour potions, to… eh… a few extras that I may or may not be supposed to have..."

"'Shade gel?'"

"An essential for every vampire! Applying it to the skin gives them three hours to spend in the daylight before they need to reapply!"

"That won't do much good for me… How do we know any of that stuff even works?"

"Oh-ho! You're a smart man! I have just the thing for that, though." Gerlois declared before opening up one of the drawers. "May I have a volunteer to try my free samples?"

There was hesitance, but it didn't last for long. At least one person was overcome with curiosity and raised their hand. He stepped forward a bit before he was completely beckoned over.

"Come here!" the merchant said, prompting the volunteer to step forward. "Tell me, have you ever wondered if blonds really do have more fun?"

"Sure..." the volunteer nervously laughed, looking to the crowd for approval. The merchant then took a vial out of one of the drawers labeled "test," accompanied by a dropper.

"Well," the merchant began, straightening his back. "Open your mouth and find out."

The volunteer approached the instruction with vast quantities of skepticism, but still, ultimately, did as he was told. In return, the merchant placed a few drops of the potion on the other man's tongue. When he swallowed, sure enough, his brown hair turned pale blond. A look of horror crossed his face as the crowd gasped, but there was soon applause at the fascinating trick.

"Don't worry, all glamours are temporary. This one is a simple one and is only designed to last a few hours, so you better figure out if things are more fun quick!" Gerlois declared enthusiastically. "I have many wonderful potions and objects, I'll even offer them at a discounted price if I am allowed to stay here for a while."

"Why here?" asked the owner of the farm, Hammond Granger, obviously not convinced that this was a good idea.

"I have traveled very far to get here and I'd like to see your village." Taking off his hat, Gerlois fanned himself with it. "I'm also not as young as I used to be, so I must confess, I'm a bit tired from the journey. My feet are especially sore..."

"Very well." Mister Brodrick replied, much to the shock and displeasure of the farmer. "You may stay in one of the unoccupied dwellings. Be sure to join us at dinner." The wolfman turned and began walking back toward his own lodgings when he looked back at the merchant from over his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way, I trust that you won't stare if supernaturals are walking around in their natural state?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Gerlois replied.

"Good. I'll see you, then. In the meantime, make yourself at home. I believe you still have an audience."

"Thank you very much, kind lord." the merchant said with a vow. He smiled a knowing smile as the other man's back was turned and flicked the ashes off of the end of his incense stick while it remained between his teeth. "The hospitality is appreciated..."

* * *

**A/N: This is going to be a strange arc... I haven't really done anything like this before, so I'm not really sure how it's going to turn out... I'm just going to write whatever seems fun, though, so hopefully, it turns out okay.**

**Also tell me if there's any mistakes where the name should be "Gerlois?" His name changed like three times while I was writing this, so there might still be a remnant, there, on accident... **

**Wish me luck, though! I'm just... gonna... do whatever. I don't know, yet. I'm still figuring this out. I don't know what the fuck is going on lmao pray 4 me**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	18. The Infernal Bargain

The villagers didn't know just exactly what they had allowed in their midst, but at the moment, they didn't care. The man that had walked up their drive was interesting and had interesting things to offer and that was good enough. The merchant with the red hair, Gerlois, was shown to his house, which was more of a small shack, but it was plenty big for his purposes, so he didn't complain. There was a bucket of water and a composting toilet, that made the man tilt his head. Reaching up, he rubbed his beard. It was just a pair of bucket. One had a toilet seat on the top while the other contained ashes and a scoop. His confusion seemed to amuse the blue-collar escorting him, prompting her to chuckle.

"It's a composting toilet." she pointed out. "Most of the houses aren't connected to water or electricity."

"Oh, I know that." Gerlois explained. "I was simply wondering what you do with the waste."

"We bury it out back." the woman said. "We make sure to bury it a ways away, though."

"What about water? Where do you get water?"

"There's a few wells around the farm. Don't worry, it's clean."

Gerlois, however, wasn't so sure. He kept his thoughts to himself, for now, though. It wasn't the right time to bring up his concerns. After that, he found a flat spot outside of his new dwellings and set up shop, laying out the blanket that wrapped his cabinet-backpack before setting the container on top of it and neatly arranging some of his wares on its surface. In his hand, he kept a small notebook and fanned himself with it while he waited.

He looked around, his single eye scanning the horizon. He could see past some of the houses and noticed the small, dirt mounds where he assumed the "waste" was being buried. More pressingly, he noticed houses being built in the same area. Still, he held his tongue, deciding to wait to make his commentary about it and instead focused on the customers that immediately flocked to him, curious of the things he had at his disposal. They sat with him and examined his wares, fixating on different things.

"You have a good eye." he said to a woman who had picked up a wooden mask with the likeness of a wolf. "That was handmade by a craftsman in Gehenna- the finest of them all! You can tell by the mark on the inside. See the Letter 'K' with horns inside of a circle? Anything bearing that mark will be far more expensive, nowadays, but since I got it before the price went off, I'll let go of it for twenty-five pounds!"

"What is Gehenna?" the woman asked. Gerlois found it odd that the group's interest was piqued as well. It seemed that absolutely none of them had ever heard of the place. "You mentioned it earlier. Is it a place like ours?"

"Oh-ho! It's similar in that it is populated by supernaturals, but it's a city in it's own right. There's craftsmen, of course, but also shops and services… There's a whole, rather intricate society, there. Granted, they're not as self-sufficient as Pyestock- another city, built with places to actually farm- but it is very impressive, nonetheless."

"Good thing we have our own farm!" one of the group members said, causing the others to laugh, but that raised some questions with Gerlois.

"So, how long has there been a settlement, here?" the redhead asked. "You're still in construction, I see..."

"We're still very new." one of the others said, a black-collar, as he rubbed his neck. The accessory caught Gerlois' eye, but he very quickly returned his gaze to the other man's face. "Only a few months. This is going to be our first harvest! We'll get there, though. It's really great, here."

"Of course! It may take a while, but you've got some foundations put in place." Overall, the merchant seemed positive, although his incense stick went out.

Upon noticing this, he took the wooden stick that it sat on the end of out of his mouth before taking a small jar out of his pocket. He put the stick inside of it with a few others, only to start rummaging around in his bag. Once he stopped, he placed an incense holder on his blanket next to him before retrieving another stick. Pinching the tip with his fingers, he lit it, before putting it in place. Some of the residents saw him do this, but most of them wanted to keep looking at the things he brought. One blue-collar, however, thought to ask him: "What's with the incense?"

Plain. Simple. To the point. Gerlois could admire that. It was an easy question, so he simply answered it: "To keep away things that I don't want to find me." he said. "There's many supernaturals that are thrown off by certain substances, like werewolves and silver, vampires and garlic, and so on.

"You've met vampires?!"

"Many. I've been friends with a few. Others are merely acquaintances, but most are just people I pass on the street."

"Where can you find them?"

"Corbin is into vampires." one of the others said about the inquisitive blue-collar. "Most of us want to be werewolves, but he's holding out for a vampire."

"Ah, in that case, make sure they're of the sex opposite of yours, otherwise, you'll turn into a ghoul instead." Gerlois explained. "They're like zombies. It's a very unpleasant way to go."

"Wait, zombies are real, too?!"

Gerlois spent a long time explaining supernatural beings to his customers. He was surprised how ignorant they could be when they were supposedly very familiar with supernaturals. They weren't even aware that 'supernaturals' was the accepted term! Some of them even claimed to be werewolves, which was especially confusing and lead to an explanation of what was and was not normal for the species. Gerlois had a few copies of Sullivan and Ramirez's _The Werewolf's Guide to Living_ in stock, but he didn't have enough to really help all of them. He sold out immediately after they were noticed. He had other books from Gehenna written by supernaturals and they met a similar fate. These people wanted to know, but weren't told. It was very odd. Very odd, indeed.

In the end, Gerlois' stock was almost exhausted. The only things that remained were simply things that he didn't bring out onto the blanket with him. Within only a few hours, his blanket was bare and he had no choice but to pack up, for now. The villagers were very eager to get their hands on supernatural-related items, regardless as to what they were. Some of those tools couldn't even be used by humans, but they wanted them anyway. It was very odd. Gerlois made sure to take note of that.

Fortunately for him, that just meant that he had more time to explore a bit. Apart from the wood houses and the villagers, themselves, the place looked like an ordinary farm. Not everyone was just lazing around. There were people working very hard on maintaining the place. There were a few hooligans that didn't, of course. They were blue-collars and they gathered on the small porch of one of their shacks.

"What's the point of coming here and being a monster if you can't be a monster?" one of them asked when pressed. "Ain't nothing to do out here. No internet. Not electricity. What's the point?"

"I believe the point is to work so that those things can be put in." Gerlois mentioned. "Building something will give you something to do. If you make it yourselves, though, you can make it what you want it to be. Maybe if you build a big enough house, all of you can hang out inside of it at the same time?"

The group looked at one another and seemed receptive to that. "So, like, if I wanna make a big house, I can paint it whatever colour I want? I can do whatever I want to it?"

"It's your house." Gerlois nodded. "If you all move into it, that would free up space for someone else who actually wants to live in these houses you're in now to do so."

"Can I put a skull on the door?"

"If you can find one." nodded the merchant. "You should go talk to whoever's in charge of that to see if they'll give you some materials."

"That's a good idea!" one of the hooligans declared. The conversation then changed to a very enthusiastic bout of throwing ideas for what they would want to do with the house back and forth and Gerlois left them to it. He had other things to learn. When the sun began to set and the cars with those working outside the village returned, he became closer to a fantastic opportunity.

Everyone gathered for dinner once again, as per custom in the village. Gerlois immediately found out why those from the outside were frightened of this place. It was strange, seeing everyone together. People were growling and barking at each other, as if they were pretending to be wolves. He had figured out what was tying them all together by this point, but he kept finding little references every so often. He wondered how they were affording all of the meat they were eating when they were trying to build this place up. Everyone looked merry, somehow, but Gerlois wasn't so sure that it would last. He felt compelled to talk to the chief.

The smell of the stick of incense hanging from his teeth alerted Chief Brodrick of his approach before his appearance did. When he did come into view, he offered a small bow. "Good evening, my lord."

The wolfman actually looked stunned for a moment before addressing the merchant. "No need for the formalities." Broderick said. "What's more important is how you managed to tell it was me?"

"Oh, don't give me too much credit. You look similar to the way you did before. The robes also help." the merchant explained, pointing to the man's garb. "I have a few patterns for making clothes for werewolves in my case, if you're interested."

"Perhaps. Why don't you sit down? You've gotten me curious."

"About what?" questioned Gerlois, taking the other man up on his offer. He set down his incense holder before taking the stick out of his mouth again and rubbing his beard.

"A few things, reallly… Hammond was approached by Stormy and his friends earlier and they asked him if they could start their own building project. They said that you gave them the idea. I'm curious as to how you managed it." the chieftain asked. "We've tried all sorts of things to get them interested, but they were only interested in being hooligans..."

"I don't wish to disappoint you, but the interest in hooliganism hasn't left them, I'm afraid. Not all young people are driven by the need to make things or feel compelled to do things that are required of them. Some people simply perceive being told what to do as a challenge that must be bested. They want to do what they want to do and everyone else should just get over it. If you frame their efforts as a key to more freedom, then their interest will be piqued, although what they will do once they get that house, is beyond me..."

"Interesting..." Brodrick muttered, thinking as he rubbed his chin. "Many of the people here are simply trying to return to nature, but that poses a bit of a problem… It can be resolved, but I worry that they will cause tension in the group."

"Inherent differences in belief can do that, but ways can be found. I'm interested in this 'returning' to nature thing, however. It's a cultural thing that I haven't seen before on my travels."

"It isn't anything special, really." the wolfman stated nonchalantly. "Have you heard about what happened in the capital?"

"What happened?"

"The palace was attacked." Brodrick said. "My people are partially responsible. We even attacked Gehenna- well, some of the women did… Surely you've heard of that?"

"I have..."

"I'm not interested in any of that anymore." the chief informed with a wave of his hand. "I know that that is impossible, now. The humans are simply too powerful. They spared many of us and allowed us to live in their approved supernatural cities, but the shame that came with being the invading forces, returning with our figurative tails between our legs to beg for mercy was immense. I couldn't bear it. Many of us couldn't, so it was decided that the best thing to do was to find our own place. Along the way, I came across some interesting humans."

Leaning in closer, he whispered: "We knew that there were humans who wanted to be werewolves, but we never really thought about why. At first, I was angry at them, thinking that despite destroying everything, they wanted more power for themselves, but once I started talking to them, some of them had an interesting answer..."

"They wanted to return to nature?" Gerlois questioned.

"Exactly." Brodrick stated, sitting upright again. "Long ago, humans lived alongside supernaturals- in fact, we were all simple 'natural.' We were equal, but different. We were all animals. Then, however, humans became more monster-like and began destroying. These humans are not like them, however. They believe that they have the spirits of wolves inside of them and that in order to live happily, they must return to their natural state. Although lycanthropy isn't exactly the same, it is the closest they will ever get, I believe. When someone is ready to return to themselves, they exchange their blue collar for a black one and we give them our gift and free them from their humanity."

There wasn't much for Gerlois to say to that. He simply sat there, taking it all in. "That's an interesting religion… It sounds ancient."

"It does, doesn't it? But that's a good thing, I think. The balance of things was better back then and humans have always been like that. I think they just simply forgot how to appreciate what was around them and now, some of them are missing the earth and wanting to come back. If they need to do it by removing the human from themselves, then so be it. They can live freely as werewolves, instead, and we will welcome them into our pack."

"Hm…"

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing to do with your beliefs. I was just thinking about the space, itself."

"What about it?" Brodrick questioned, looking around.

"Well, I've seen a few supernatural cities, of course, and I'm not saying that you should copy them, but there's a few things that have occurred to me since I've arrived." Pointing outwards, Gerlois gestured to the space where the villagers were assembling houses. "You need a sewage system, or at least a better means of disposing waste. You're building on top of where you bury it, right now, and it worries me. The earth on those mounds is going to settle and compress, which might cause the structural integrity of your houses to weaken. You're also drawing your water from the ground, and it the bacteria could affect its drinkability. I mean you no disrespect, of course, my lord, but it may be worth looking into."

"It is, I believe you..." sighed the chieftain. "We just aren't bringing in enough money to swing that, right now… We're not like Pyestock and Gehenna… We don't have HELLSING backing us and we don't want them to."

"Why not?"

"Once you allow them in your business, they decide how things are to be run. They'll destroy the culture that we've built and put in their own people. It happened in both Pyestock and in Gehenna..."

"That is unfortunate..." Gerlois didn't really believe what Brodrick was saying, but he could rationalise why the chieftain thought that way. "I did notice one way to save money while here, though. It might not seem like much, but it adds up..."

"Such as?"

"Meat." the merchant pointed out. "Look at how much meat your buying. Meat is expensive and in the quantities you're buying, it's draining your finances. Your people may not like it, but buying things like spaghetti, ramen noodles, and fresh vegatables would fill them up, despite it not feeding the wolf inside of them. If you cut the amount of meat with cheaper food, you can still feed your people and save some money."

Blinking, the wolfman looked out at his followers and watched them eat. He hadn't noticed before, but then again, he wasn't the one buying the food, personally, but he was also happily partaking in it, himself. That was a lot of meat they were eating and once he realised it, he understood the financial ramifications of it.

"Who are you, exactly?" Brodrick asked, looking to the other man with a confused look.

"Me? Well, if I didn't know how to buy stock and save money, then what kind of merchant would I be?" Gerlois questioned back with a knowing smile. "You could also raise other animals. Pyestock has a decent rabbit trade. People like them because they reproduce often and quickly. They'll eat or sell the meat, then use or sell the pelt, and even the bones! So maybe a couple of rabbits would be a good investment."

"Where will we get them?"

"Leave that to me. I know where to find these things. You build a place to keep them and I'll take care of getting them here. Your move to use supermarket pallets as a supply of wood was a good one, by the way, but you could go even further, if you wanted to..."

Gerlois the merchant was whispering in Chief Brodrick's ear throughout dinner about the many ways that he could make his village prosper and Brodrick liked the sound of all of them. The wolfman was passionate about this project and eager to set things in motion right away. While he knew that some of his followers may not like some of the changes, he felt as though it was necessary, for the betterment of his village. After all, what he needed above all else was funds and this strange man seemed to know how to help him.

As dinner wrapped up, however, the other villagers began approaching him, wanting to hear more and more about the supernatural world outside. Not wanting to offend the chief right next to him, however, he kept his praises to a minimum and instead regaled the audience through other means. One being his violin.

He was asked about it, as he was seen with its case when he arrived. Quite a few people wanted to know if he could play, including Brodrick, who thought the idea of musical accompaniment to the evening sounded like a wonderful idea. Thus, Gerlois did what was asked of him, uttering a quick apology before he played, saying that he was a bit rusty. It soon became apparent, however, that he had been playing for years.

His fingers danced on the strings, his black fingernails absorbing the firelight rather than reflecting it as he played his haunting tune. It was some solo by Bach, but few of the villagers recognised it. All they knew was that the man was captivating as he played his song like it was the easiest thing in the world. His sound was devastating whether it was his sharp, silver tongue or his music. The latter of the two felt like a punch to the chest, but none of them could look away. They were enchanted by him. The chief was, too. Unfortunately for Tagdh Brodrick, he didn't know that that night, by making that deal with the merchant, he had sealed the fate of the entire village all at once. Worse, still, he would only find out after it was too late to change it.

* * *

**A/N: Gerlois is a weird character... He's fun, though! And he conveniently give me an excuse to ramble on about supernatural shit that I might not otherwise? Y'all are gonna READ about some fuckin' supernatural trinkets, by gods!**

**It's still very strange to write on all of this. The next chapter is actually a bit behind, because I had to delete like two pages. Didn't like the direction it was going in. It was just too much at once and an information dump isn't right for this, I don't think. Y'all can figure this stuff out on your own, I think. Usually, whenever I'm trying to be clever or sneaky, there's always a review that basically lays out my entire future plans! Some of you are pretty scary... It must feel pretty nice once you realise you were right, though!**

**Hopefully this winds up making enough sense for you to guess it. Some of you have already picked up on a few things! It's amazing! Then again, you've been reading my writing for how long exactly? It's probably a given that you're going to kind of have a feel for the way I think!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	19. Chasing The Mailman

The sound of hammers striking nails continued to fill the countryside once more, only this time, it was during the process of building something new. Now, the villagers had been building houses and shacks for a while, but now, by orders of their chief, Tagdh Brodrick, they began building a hutch to raise rabbits in. The beginning of its construction came a few days after the arrival of the merchant, who took it as his cue to set off in search of rabbits to actually put inside of it. Fortunately for him, he knew exactly where to get said rabbits and told the chief that he would be back in a few days.

Gerlois packed up his things and lit another incense stick before bidding the village a temporary farewell. A few offered to make the journey with him, but he insisted that it would be difficult for them to go where he was going and that he would be fine on his own. Eventually, he disappeared down the drive and down the road before finally being completely out of sight.

While he walked, however, he noticed a van following him. His pace slowed as the van lulled to a stop right beside him. Turning his head, Gerlois watched as the side door slid open, revealing a pale, blonde, man with a cat-like face inside.

"Hey, old man, do you need a ride somewhere?" Jim smiled, trying not to laugh. Gerlois pinched the end of his incense stick, extinguishing it before taking it out of his mouth.

"That's a rather kind offer." the merchant said. "I think I'll take you up on it."

After getting in the car, the man was not seen again until three days later when he was witnessed at the very end of the road by a group of villagers that were returning home from acquiring some more wood. They looked a bit disheartened, as many of the places they had gone recently were out for the time being. Some supermarkets were even breaking the boards so that they wouldn't be tempted to take them. It was a damn shame, but they were pleased to see Gerlois walking.

His backpack was taller and wrapped in even more cloth as he had even more things he was carrying. It was stacked high above his head and on the very top was a small cage loosely covered in fabric. It was open slightly so that air could get to what was inside. He only turned slightly while walking to look at the group when they honked the horn at him. The merchant smiled warmly and offered a wave until the small truck that the group was in slowed down to a snail's pace to call out to him.

"Need a ride, Gerlois?" they asked, eyeing the items that weighed down heavily on his back.

"No." he said with a warm smile. "I'm fine. It'll be hard to load all of this in your truck. I'll probably need help taking it off when I get back. Those rabbits up there are a bit precarious."

"Okay. We'll meet you back there, then, and help you out." one of the villagers offered. "We got the rabbit house done while you were gone!"

"Wonderful!" the merchant replied. "I'll walk a bit faster, then!"

Waving them off, Gerlois was alone once again, but he had a very purposeful reason for this. Once he arrived the end of the farm's drive, he stopped at the mailbox, glanced around to make sure that no one was looking, and then opened it up to check the contents. All outgoing mail. Still, it could be useful to him, so he pocketed it and closed the mailbox before carrying on his merry way. He kept the secret to himself all the way to the village, where he was greeted warmly by the inhabitants.

Things seemed a bit more cheerful than when he first arrived. People waved at him instead of stared at him, but he assumed that that was to be expected. They knew him, now, and from the looks of things, something good must have happened.

Upon his arrival, a few people came up to him and helped him get the rabbits off of the top of his backpack and down to safety. Everyone was really excited about them. They were cute, but they were also useful. The plan was to use them as meat and then either use or sell the fur- they hadn't decided which. The village desperately needed money, so the idea of opening up an Etsy shop was passed around by some of the youths, although Gerlois didn't really understand it. He would have to add it to his notes.

Someone must have ran to the farmhouse in order to get the chief and the farmer, because Tagdh Brodrick and Hammond Granger quickly arrived on the scene. Chief Brodrick walked fast enough that the latter had difficulty keeping up with him, but he simply couldn't contain his excitement. He approached the merchant with open arms and embraced him tightly as soon as he was in reach.

"Gerlois!" the chief enthusiastically greeted. "It's so good to see you again! I have the most wonderful news! Come, come! There is much to discuss!"

"It's good to see you too, my lord." Gerlois chuckled as the wolfman put an arm around him and lead him back to the farmhouse. He kept a firm grip on his bag, as he didn't want to leave it out in the open where the contents could be taken from him.

He was ushered into the house and was somewhat surprised at how ordinary the inside looked. It was just like any old farmhouse that one could find anywhere in England, despite the fact that it was occupied by supernaturals trying to form their own village. Gerlois was careful to notice every detail. From the looks of things, an older woman must have lived there at some point, given the kitschy knick-knacks, but the place was somewhat of a mess. The smell reminded Gerlois of a frat house, without the smell of booze. There were small little totems scattered about, however, resembling wolves. Some of them were quite good, while others were noticeably less so. Hammond put the kettle on, so the merchant assumed that he was going to be there for a while.

"So, how have things been?" Gerlois questioned, twiddling his thumbs while the wolfman grinned.

"Well! We started doing the things you were telling me about right after you left and the very first thing we tried was eating less meat." Brodrick proudly said before practically beaming. "Immediately, we saved so much money! It was ridiculous! I had no idea something like that was even a possibility!" He laughed and Gerlois laughed, only the merchant's laughter was the polite kind— the kind that was too courteous to inform the other man that what was explained to him was basic.

"I'm glad. I was worried that it wouldn't go over well."

"Well, it didn't with a few, but others were just glad for a change of pace. Most of them understood, though. It's for the betterment of the village! There's a few ideas, though, that I'm a little nervous about..."

"Such as?"

"Well, I'm certain that collecting rent is a must for what we're doing. But, if they aren't paying with labour, they're paying by bringing food and other supplies. It will be difficult to convince them to give us the remainder of their paychecks. I could probably do it. It is simply a matter of how..."

"You should do whatever it is that you think is best for the village." Gerlois stated, trying to be impartial. In reality, he thought it was a terrible idea, but it was something that he could use later if he needed to. Brodrick was putting a lot of faith in him. Perhaps a bit too much faith. He had to stay on his toes.

Tea was set down in front of him by the farmer, who still seemed less than thrilled about his presence, but was willing to put up with it in order to keep the peace. Gerlois could respect that. The merchant took a sip of his drink before asking a rather dangerous question.

"Are those pictures around the house of your family, mister Granger?" he asked, not looking up from his cup in order to maintain that the answer wasn't of great importance. His eye flicked upwards and he saw just a glimpse of panic in Hammond's eyes before it subsided.

"Yes." the farmer said with a smile after he looked over his shoulder. There was a photograph on the wall of a man, a woman, and a young boy, but neither of the adults were Hammond. "Those are my parents, and that's me." he said before laughing. "My hair was a lot darker back then!"

"What a lovely family!" Gerlois smiled back. "Any children of your own, Mister Granger?"

"No, but I've still got some time left, so I'm still hopeful! What about you, Gerlois? Do you have any family?"

"Once. Not anymore, though..." the merchant answered somewhat sadly, looking back down at his cup for a moment. "Well, no use dwelling on it, I suppose." he added with a small chuckle, effectively giving the other two an out from this conversation that had suddenly taken a turn.

"I'm- I'm so sorry..."

"Everyone has their struggles and curses." Gerlois said, taking the freshly empty incense stick out of his mouth and putting the wood in the jar at his hip before replacing it. He pulled out a lighter and flicked the lid open before lighting the end of the stick. The smell of it very quickly filled the air. "We do what we can. Just as you do what you can for your village!"

"Well, you see… about that..." Brodrick began, folding his hands on the table in front of him with a sigh. "I believe that there is so much more that we could be doing… I know that progress is slow, but… it feels too slow. I want to move things along faster so that we can really begin to prosper."

"I understand." nodded the merchant while stroking his red beard. "I can have a look around to see if there's anything else that can be altered right away, if you like."

"I would. Please do. Your suggestions were all great and what we've already implemented has been successful, so far."

"Do you have anyone specific to take care of the rabbits?"

"I had a few people in mind."

"Alright. Send them my way later after I've unpacked. I have a book for them on how to take care of them. Thought it would be useful."

"I will. Thank you very much, mister Gerlois..."

"The pleasure is all mine." the merchant answered. Before long, he made his exit and stepped out into the sun. He squinted, putting on his cap to block some of the light before carrying on.

He headed back to his shack and once there, he close the door, barring it fast, and sat down on the floor. Then, he pulled the mail he had stolen from his tunic and looked over the envelopes. None of them were bills or other more "official" notices, but instead, personal letters. There were four in total and all of them were addressed to Mister Hammond Granger. From there, the merchant's actions became increasingly strange.

Gerlois held out a hand so that his palm was facing upwards. His skin was discolouring rapidly, there, turning pitch black before it seemed to unwind, like threads coming undone. Soon, a cellphone appeared from the threads before his skin rapidly reverted back as if nothing had happened. With that, he pulled up the camera function and began taking photographs of the letters' exterior. He attached the images to a message with transcripts of what each envelope said before sending it- this included names, addresses, and most importantly, return addresses. Afterwards, Gerlois once again hid the phone and the letters before going to set up shop like normal.

He took his things a bit further out, this time, laying out his blanket toward the center of town. The merchant set down his incense stick, placing it into the holder, before setting out and organizing his wares. Quickly, people started to arrive and he fanned himself with his notebook as he spoke to them.

"This fabric is a bit more expensive than what you can get in stores, that's true, but the reason it is so expensive is because it was dyed in Pystock." he explained to a customer. "See this emblem printed on it? That is the insignia of the city of Pyestock. It's design is meant to resemble of pair of rather famous doors, there. However, fabric is useless without anything to sew! I picked up a done of these, while I was passing through!"

He gestured to a set of thin paper in a large manila envelope with drawings of werewolves in clothing on them. "They're patterns for simple tunics and such, designed with werewolves in mind! It is difficult for some species to find clothes that fit them without a special store in their town, so I was sure to get plenty of them. If you buy it along with the fabric, I'll even drop the price on both!"

The fabric and patterns were gone almost immediately after that. Fur was also a hot commodity that was exhausted within moments and so was woodwork. Anything with a wolf on it was gone in a flash, leaving typical witches things. Homemade perfumes, lipbalm, and other practical items went quickly. Shade gel didn't sell all that much, but one or two jars were sold. Glamour spells went by quickly, as well, as there were always people who wanted to tweak a few things about their appearance. Gerlois, being responsible, however, didn't carry any glamours that were extravagant, however. He knew that those had to be measured more precisely.

"I don't have anything that will turn you into a wolf." he explained very carefully to a customer. He sympathised, since they did truly wish for it. It was obviously important enough for them to dedicate their lives to this village, but he had good reason. "Spells to turn you into a wolfperson, even, are complex to mix, and like glamours to make supernaturals that can't pass for humans able to blend in, you really need to see a witch for that so they can give you a precise potion. Otherwise, something horrible could happen!"

"What about… magic pelts?" the customer asked feverishly. "I read somewhere that witches make belts or capes or whatever out of fur that can transform them!"

"They aren't supposed to, anymore." Gerlois stated. "It's against supernatural law to make or sell them, and I, personally, value my life. Those pelts are dangerous. It's easy to get lost in them. There's still a few folks around to this day who are trapped in the bodies of animals because they wore their pelts for too long."

"That's the point, though! I don't want to go back!" she replied, trying to explain her plight. "I'm a wolf, not a human! I'm stuck in this body, though, and I can't get out! Please, if you could just… bend the rules a little..."

"They aren't my rules. They're the rules of the HELLSING organisation." insisted the merchant. He sighed. "I understand that none of you are familiar with it, but it is important that you know. They are the people who manage supernaturals in the United Kingdom and they are very serious about it. They do not approve the sale and production of those pelts and I don't want to get in any sort of trouble. You'd have better luck finding a witch and having a glamour made. I'm sorry..."

"Are they like, a government thing?" asked the first customer's friend, who had been listening in. "Or like, a company? Like Umbrella Corp.?"

"I don't know what that is, I'm afraid..." the man confusedly answered. "But Hellsing is more of a government thing. They manage and run the cities of Pyestock and Gehenna and are the source of most of the funding until their internal economies started picking up. They're also responsible for supplying most of the blood that feeds the vampires who live there, amoung other things. In exchange, the people follow their rules. The cities have their own internal government that handles most things, of course, but HELLSING always has a presence, there."

"What about us?" they asked. "Will they want to handle us, too?"

"Probably, unless you stay off their radar. As long as they don't know about the village, there's nothing they can do. There's a trick to get past them, though."

"What is it?"

"Pretend to be human, of course!" Gerlois laughed heartily. "They don't have many ways to tell if you're supernatural or not, so if you just play dumb and down bare your fangs, then there isn't much they can do about it!"

He could see the relief on his customers' faces as they carried on with their shopping. They didn't like the idea of HELLSING. Neither did their leader. It was understandable, considering the things that had happened. It would be difficult to make peace with a terrifying group like organisation, given their long, long, history of destroying supernaturals.

When the evening came, so did the people working on the outside with money and food. Just as Brodrick had said, they brought in the cheaper alternatives that Gerlois had suggested. They did bring some meat to keep people happy, but it was minuscule, especially in comparison to the extravagant proportions from before. While those workers sat down and chatted, a few people from the village who were tasked with cooking boiled noodles and preparing vegetables. Gerlois looked on as the feast was set up and noticed something else. Most of the people who were doing this sort of work were doing so on top of their own, day-to-day duties. There was the woman who had showed him his house cleaning broccoli, despite building houses in the hot sun all day. She was a blue-collar. They were all blue-collars. The black-collars simply sat around, talking, including the chief. Gerlois didn't think that was right. Not only was it nor fair, as soon as the blue-collars noticed it, morale would drop and they might decide to leave. The merchant said nothing, though. If they decided to go, it would not hurt his feelings one bit. In fact, it may be for the best.

Once again, he was ushered over to be seated near the leaders of the village. They were probably eager to hear what observations he could make in order to improve upon things. Truth be told, however, he didn't see anything yet, apart from the division of labour and a few other things. They were, however, issues that it would be best to address once the village was in a better place, financially. It would be difficult to do anything else without a strong economy and basic necessities. If anything, the latter of the two was what Brodrick should be focusing on, but that wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Who is going to live in the new houses?" questioned Gerlois as he sat near the chief and the farmer.

"Others in the community who we don't yet have space for." Brodrick stated before stuffing his face. "Why?"

"I was thinking that if the houses weren't needed with any great immediacy, it might be possible to spare a few of those workers and have them take on jobs elsewhere to generate more income, but if it's impossible, it shouldn't be done."

"The others wouldn't want that, regardless. This is what they come here, for. Those working on the outside still only do so because they must. They're the type that's eager to please. Although, there are a few more people here who might be willing to, but they already give up so much just to be here..."

"It shouldn't be anyone who is already doing something essential. The crops need to be brought in. Perhaps a portion could be sold… Or, we could deal in crafts." Sighing, Gerlois folded his arms. "This is very difficult, indeed..."

"There is no HELLSING to give us money." the chief said. He sneered as he said the name of the orginasation in disgust. "We will not give in to them. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk so loudly about them with the others. The less they know, the better. Causing them to be stressed about it will only make them want to leave."

"Oh, my mistake. I thought it would be helpful to them, since they wish to become supernaturals."

"It's fine and dandy for werewolves to know, but they are not yet werewolves, and even then, HELLSING has no dominion over us, so the information isn't really relevant."

"I see. I'll keep that in mind, then." Gerlois replied, before turning his attention back to his meal. He remained silent, but kept his ears inconspicuously at attention, all the same. He didn't hear much gossip that was particularly tantilising. He kept that up until the feast was coming to a close and he was urged to play his violin. Of course, he obliged, and it was haunting as always. He somewhat wondered what exactly was the entertainment value of this, but he carried on, playing until the post-dinner festivities came to a close and it became time for everyone to go to bed.

There was, however, some creeping done in the dark. Gerlois lit an incense stick in his room and left it burning while he crept through the village in the dead of night. He was sure to walk on the grass and not the gravel, leaping over large patches of it when he had to in order to avoid making noise.

Whenever he heard a sound, he froze and waited as he discerned where it was coming from and whether or not its source was a threat to him. For the most part, the only things he heard were the sounds of night and the occasional risque activities coming from a nearby shack. Gerlois wrinkled his nose in disgust and carried on before finally reaching the mailbox. Once there, he very carefully opened the box and placed the village's mail back inside, placing the flag in the upright position before disappearing into the darkness again.

Shortly after, the mail truck came despite it being pitch black. It's lights cut through the darkness as it quietly stopped next to the mailbox belonging to the village. It paused while the mailman looked as his phone fore a few moments until he reached out and opened the box. He looked at the letters and then looked at his phone, comparing the two, before putting the letters in the seat next to him and closing the mailbox back up. He lowered its flag before taking off into the night. The chief and the farmer of the village would not be seeing any messages, for the time being.


	20. The Merchant's Amassing Suspicions

Confusedly, the blue-collar in charge of getting the mail arched her eyebrow and closed the mailbox. There was nothing, again. She didn't know how to explain it. Ordinarily, there would be regular letters to Mister Granger, but on this day, like a few days before, there was nothing at all. She found it strange and didn't know what she was going to say if asked. She made her way back up to the village, yawning as she dragged her feet. She was a lot more tired than usual as of late, but then again, so were a few others. It seemed universal, almost, but she was surprised to see how bad it was.

As she came back, she was greeted by a small crowd gathering in the middle of town. Curious, she trotted up to it to see what was happening, only to find a head of red hair in the center picking up a body. The person was still conscious, but only barely. Gerlois scooped him up and carried him effortlessly, surprising quite a few people, given how old he looked.

"Where is his house?" the merchant asked before a few sumeritans offered to take him there. They helped him get the man to bed while Gerlois grilled them about what was happening before the man started passing out.

He could see that the man's lips were chapped and according to those he was working with at the time, he seemed "out of it." He lacked focus and seemed stressed. Even worse, he complained of dizziness before he collapsed.

"I'm no medical professional, but I'd say he's exhausted." the merchant said. "Does anyone know how he's been sleeping?"

Collectively, almost all of the others shook their heads or shrugged. There were two people, however, who laughed. They were black-collars just like the man passed out. Werewolves.

The thing about werewolves is that although they are highly energetic, they need a lot of food. Good calories to keep them running. It could be as simple as not getting enough to eat or him sleeping poorly, so the merchant wanted to make sure.

What the other black-collars reported, however, seemed to be the culprit. "He's been talking about his dreams a lot." one snickered. "Real intense dreams."

"At least they're not nightmares, though!" the other added before full-on laughing.

"Are they keeping him awake?" Gerlois questioned, but they still seemed to not be taking this seriously.

"Don't see how. If I were him, I'd _want_ to go to sleep!"

"Yeah. If I kept dreaming about a hot girl riding me all night, then I'd never wanna wake up!"

They were very amused by their jests, but the news made Gerlois rub his beard in thought. It wasn't an unusual dream for a young man to have, but for it to exhaust him like this? That was unlikely. Gerlois had his suspicions, but he would continue to look for other factors as well. He left at least one person there to look after him and make sure he drank some water when he woke up. With that, the merchant went out to find the village leaders and inform them as to what had just happened. Gerlois had a suspicion that this man wasn't going to be the only one suffering from this affliction, so he needed to make sure that the village was on the lookout for it.

When he stepped out of the house, however, he saw Brodrick and Granger right away. They were already being addressed by a few in the group and briefed on the situation, but Gerlois thought it would be best to follow up on things anyway. As he saw the others walking away, however, he noticed the pair acting strangely. Without another word, the chief swatted Hammond's arm with an angry expression on his face, while the other man looked apologetic. As they spotted the merchant approaching them, however, their demeanor changed and it was all smiles again.

"Gerlois!" Brodrick greeted. "Just the man I wanted to see! Good work helping out Lobo, there. Don't worry, we're going to be on the lookout for that sort of thing from now on."

"That's just what I was going to suggest, my lord, but I see that you're already on top of things!" the merchant replied. "I won't keep you, then. You have a lot to do, it seems."

"Before you go, Gerlois, there was actually something else that I wanted to talk to you about." the chief said, placing a hand no the merchant's shoulder before he could get away. There was a pause as Gerlois gave him his full attention, turning his head so that he could look at the other man with his good eye. "The village needs someone like you, here." he said. "We need your guidance and we need your wares. What I would like to know is: would you like to have a proper shop, here? At least for a little while..."

That was quite the offer, although, Gerlois wasn't exactly struggling. He was more than physically fit enough to wander, and he had more than enough funds to get the things that he needs, but something in him suspected that this was not what that was about.

"You'll want me to pay taxes, won't you?" the man questioned, causing the other's eyes to widen. Bingo.

"Well… Uh..." Brodrick paused to clear his throat. "I suppose that is a given..."

"I think it's a good idea." Gerlois nodded. "It'll definitely bring in revenue for your town. But, I don't think I'll be able to do it. I can teach a few others how to do the job, but that is as far as I wish to go. I have not much longer left for this world, and it'll be inconvenient if you lost me so quickly."

"Come now, Gerlois, don't say that. You're still young!"

"I'll consider what I have proposed." the merchant informed. "Give me until tomorrow evening to mull it over. I'll have an answer by then."

With that, the conversation slowly died down, leaving both parties to their own devices until dinner came around. That left plenty of time for Gerlois to type a few messages on his phone and make arrangements. The messages he received were less than thrilled, but they weren't completely dismissive of the idea. Gerlois would have his answer before the deadline, knowing his contacts, God help them. His curiosity was not satiated, however, and thus, he did some more snooping.

He recalled hearing sound from the direction of the fainted black-collar's house one his night-time "strolls," but his was not the only one. There was more than that, unless his memory failed him. Furthermore, he sensed something strange about some of the people in the village. Their signatures weren't right. When they were working, some of them couldn't lift things that they otherwise should be able to. They didn't heal splinters very quickly, either. Then there were the leaders of the village, who always had something wrong about them. Brodrick was moreso in the sense that his kindness was somehow off-putting. If Gerlois wasn't careful, he might wind up in danger of not being able to leave the village. They already wanted him to stop wandering and stay there, both because of his wisdom and because they wanted to funnel the money that their people were spending back into the village in order to create some semblance of an economy.

Stepping out of his shack, he was back to the same old thing, only he wasn't selling anything today. He was going to talk to the other villagers and see how they were doing. He wanted to know if any of them were tired or even particularly worried about something. Even if it didn't pertain to the topic, however, the information was still useful. Learning about the villagers was always beneficial and they were always eager to talk.

"I like living here, really, I do, but it also kinda sucks." one of them said, a blue-collar with spiked, leather bracelets on both wrists that made Gerlois wonder how he worked on the farm. "You stay for the people and the atmosphere, really. There's nowhere else like this. I've never felt closer to my real self! Like, you can growl and bite, and spar, and no one cares! It's just the plumbing situation, really. It'd be nice to be able to take a proper bath and not have to worry about emptying the bucket, you know?"

"I hear you..." Gerlois nodded with a chuckle. "The good news is that the chief has been coming up with ways to raise money to put in a septic system, so hopefully, toilets won't be an issue in the future. It's being worked on, but it might take some time."

"That's good… Sometimes, I get sick of it and want to leave, but then I go outside and talk to the others and just wanna stay all over again."

That was the overall sentiment that people felt for the most part. They loved living there because they loved the people. It was a pride similar to that of Gehenna and Pyestock, and Gerlois had to admire that a bit, despite finding it incredibly strange, the way that they would bark and howl at each other. He'd even been barked at a few times, himself. Strange, but not overtly annoying, so long as he accepted it as part of their beliefs. Time had softened him, so he was able to do that, now, despite his own internal pretentiousness wanting him to brush it off as "silly." One thing he did not like, however, was their so-called "sparring."

Like wolf pups simulating combat as play, so to did the villagers who inhabited Granger Farm. Weakly, they clawed at each other with their fingernails, attempted to "slash" their opponents, and growled as menacingly as they could muster. Clearly, none of them had been trained beyond a short-lived karate class, if anything.

That is why, when an unfortunate soul bumped shoulders with him, he was not amused when they growled at him in an attempt to intimidate him. Granted, the blue collar was a very large man. He was tall and he was sturdy. Had Gerlois not been who he was, and had in fact been an ordinary human, he would have been in trouble! When the blue-collar received his black collar, he would in no doubt make a massive werewolf. Gerlois was unresponsive to his growling, however.

"Put away those teeth if you don't wish to lose them." the merchant said. "I've seen you fight before, Dom, and you don't scare me."

"I should, old man." the blue-collar known simply as "Dom" replied. "I don't care if you can make fire with your hands. You're disrespecting a wolf!"

"So be it." Gerlois stated. "You may be a wolf, but it doesn't matter. You'll still fall when confronted by an even bigger beast."

"Is that supposed to be you?"

"What does it matter? Are you afraid, boy? Move along, pup. If you're not going to be nice or buy something, you should get back to work." The merchant wasn't exactly goading him. He knew that the other man wouldn't strike, even in jest. He was a frail, old, man, after all! He wouldn't get any cred for fighting him! People would disapprove of it, but then again, Dom didn't want to look weak, either. He was left no choice, however, as he was briskly waved off by the merchant, who was eager to continue talking to people who were a bit more hospitable.

"I hope they don't pick Dom." one of the villagers said, having witnessed what happened. "They haven't picked anybody like him to be a black-collar yet, but he's scary. He even picked the name 'Dom!' His name isn't even Dominic! It's Brian!"

"Is he that scary?" Gerlois questioned, lighting another incense stick.

"Anybody that big who goes around talking about how 'when I'm a black-collar, I'll do this,' or 'when I'm a black-collar, I'll do that,' It a scary person. It's usually with a 'you'll be sorry' thrown in for got measure. I want to go back to nature, but if he gets picked before me, I might have to leave."

"I doubt they'll pick him for a long time." the merchant stated. "Don't worry. Unless something really, really, goes wrong, I doubt they'll reward him for his behaviour."

"I hope so… I came here to avoid people like that, but I guess they're here, too. It sucks!"

"You meet a lot of them?"

"School was the worst. People just aren't used to people- or; _wolves_, like us." sighed the blue-collar. "I couldn't be myself at all and I'm pretty sure that neither could any of the others. Our minds or our spirits, or whatever- just something doesn't match with our bodies and we wanna do what we wanna do. If I wanna go out and bark at the moon, I should be able to! Ugh… I can't wait to return to nature..."

"Huh… So it's really just about being yourself, is it?" Gerlois questioned, rubbing his chin. By this point, he was completely unfazed. It wasn't strange to him, as in his eyes, it's just as valid as any other belief. If the Catholics can pretend to drink blood and eat flesh, then why can't a bunch of young people walk around with wolf tails? The werewolves around here didn't seem to mind, although, he could only imagine what his own lycanthrope friend would think about it. Probably would make fun of it. For a werewolf, he was known to be rather catty.

"Of course! We don't know why we're like this, but it's what we want, so we've made a space where we can be ourselves! It sucks that a few bad eggs just wanna ruin it for everybody, though."

Nodding, the merchant seemed to understand, but felt as though he should be a bit careful. As time passed, he was starting to wonder if he was starting to become a bit too okay with the idea. Was it in fact strange? He hoped that it wasn't turning into a cult situation, as these people seemed nice enough, but between this feeling, the fact the Brodrick didn't seem to want him to leave, as well as the fact that the chief wanted to control what all Gerlois said about HELLSING, the merchant was wondering about it. His discoveries would only continue to amass as dinnertime came.

On this night, he decided that it would perhaps be best if he dined with the rest of the villagers instead of Brodrick and the other faoladh in order to get a better sense of what was going on. It was when the food was passed around that he made a significant discovery, however, and it may contribute to his earlier inquiry. The amount of food being passed around to the villagers was less than that being consumed in Brodrick's group. A deep frown formed on the merchant's face as he wrinkled his nose at it.

"Hey, Summer, is this normal?" he asked, capturing the attention of the blue-collar who had first showed Gerlois his cabin, answered him.

"Is what normal?" she asked in her quiet, airy voice. She often wore the wooden, wolf mask that she bought from the merchant, only it was flipped up to sit on top of her head while she ate.

"The amount of food you have. Is that normal?"

"Oh? Oh! Yeah, I guess so. We all sort of get the same unless there's leftovers, but you have to fight pretty hard to get to them before everyone else does."

"I see..." Gerlois answered, setting his incense stick in it's holder on the ground next to him. His curiosity sparked curiosity in the woman, so she felt compelled to ask:

"Why? Is there something weird about that?"

"Possibly. I don't think it's the only factor by a long shot, but I think it's part of the reason a lot of the black-collars have been feeling tired. Werewolves have high metabolisms and need to eat a lot of food. If they're only getting that amount at set meals, they're bound to be tired. At least, that's what I think, but that's not the only thing… I probably shouldn't tell you, though..."

"What is it?" Summer questioned further, her eyes lit up. She, like all of the others, loved hearing Gerlois talk about lycanthropy, as he was the only expert on the topic who was willing to tell them about it. He hadn't spoken about it in a while, however, which made everyone even more curious. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone!"

"Well..." the merchant began, clearing his throat. "It's not the amount they get at the chief's table, that's for sure."

"Huh?"

"That's a fraction of a portion over there. I know Mister Brodrick's trying to save money for a septic system, but… No, I've already said too much..."

"Hm..." The woman didn't seem to thrilled about that idea and neither did the few others who were eavesdropping. Still, the meal continued on without incident and thus concluded another day at this strange village in the English countryside as the sound of howling filled the night air.

* * *

**A/N: I actually wrote a DIFFERENT chapter before this one, but thought that it would make more sense if I did this first, so I went back and wrote this. La-di-da. Everything's Gucci. **

**...I hope...**

**Hopefully, this is an interesting arc despite a conspicuous lack of familiar demons, but bear with me! I said this arc would be strange! I'm just playing around and seeing what I can come up with, mostly. I want to slap some weird shit together and see what happens. Such is DLTD, really.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	21. Meanwhile In An Alternate Location

The city streets were busy, as always, albeit less so in this particular stretch of street away from the major streets and tourist spots. Dogs could be heard barking, the sidewalk wasn't that well maintained, and there were an odd amount of shoes hanging from powerlines, but the rent was cheap and that was the most important part of living there, although getting a hold of the landlords to fix anything was about like catching Santa Claus sneaking down the chimney. It was a bit odd when a black van slithered down the street. It came to a stop in front of an apartment building, prompting a man on the passenger side to get out while the driver was left waiting.

He was dressed in a cheap, dark grey, suit with a white shirt and purple tie. He didn't want the intimidation of a visibly expensive suit, but needed to look official, so it was a good choice. His face alone was intimidating enough, but not in a conventional way. The man was frightening in how pretty he was, with pale, blonde, hair, icy blue eyes, and a cat-like face that was harmless at times, but at others, made him look as though he knew something that the person talking to him didn't. The man with the cat-like face ascended the stairs, checking a pocket-sized memopad in order to make sure he had the right address. The man walked up to the door and knocked three times, then waited patiently for the person on the other side to answer.

It was a frail-looking man with a splotchy complexion. He was thin, with dark circles around his eyes and looked like he was in serious need of help. It was almost understandable that his tone wasn't the most enthusiastic when he spoke.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I'm looking for Taylor Lexington?" the blonde smiled with a tilt of his head. "Is this the right place?"

"Yeah? Why?" Mister Lexington looked disgruntled with a furrowed brow until his visitor pulled out a badge. Taylor's eyes widened immediately.

"I'm with HELLSING. Supernatural Relations. My name is Jim Phantomhive, and I was wondering if you could answer a few ques-" The Phantomhive was cut off as Mister Lexington tried to shut the door in his face, only for the demon to block it with his shoe. "You aren't in any kind of trouble, Mister Lexington. I only want to know about the rise in incubi and succubi deaths in London. I want to help."

Taylor didn't budge for a moment and continued to put pressure on the door while he weighed the pros and cons of letting the man inside to ask his questions. If he refused, he may come back with more people, but if he accepted? What would happen? He could be arrested or worse, but he didn't really know what for. Did the blonde man in the grey suit need one? Probably not. If he was going to be killed, though, Taylor decided that perhaps the path of least resistance was better. Cautiously, he opened the door again and gestured for the other man to come through. With a smile on his face, Jim took him up on the offer and quietly walked into the small apartment, taking great care as to not make any sudden or otherwise threatening movements.

"Thank you for your help." the menace said. "I'm aware that it's scary to have HELLSING show up at your door, but I'm not here to take anybody away or hurt them at all. I really just want to know about the problems you all are facing in the city."

"Typical stuff." Mister Lexington stated, shutting the door. "They all starved to death. Surely you've figured that out already..."

"Not quite. The signs are there, but there isn't a lot of research about your biology, so nobody was really able to confirm it." Patting the sides of his legs, Jim looked around. "Can we sit down?"

"Go ahead." the incubus answered, gesturing again. He sat down on the sofa in the room while the menace sat down in a chair. It was a dingy thing that Taylor had gotten for free somewhere, but the menace didn't act repulsed to be sitting in it in the slightest. He leaned back all the way and somehow, the gesture made the incubus feel more at ease.

"I'm reaching for my notepad." the menace warned, holding up a hand before reaching into his jacket pocket. When he pulled it out, he showed it to the other man before taking out his pen and clicking it. "Let's see what we can do. I take it that it's not easy to find food out here?"

"No, it isn't…" Taylor sighed. "We were all used to people on the estate knowing what's up and being down for it, but now? We don't know anything… None of us knew what to do when we came out here and then on top of that, we have to hide what we are so we don't scare anybody off! That took out a lot of us right away..."

"Right… that would complicate things." There was a pause as Jim jotted it down in his notes. "When in the human world, you must do what the humans do, and I doubt that makes it any easier."

"Yeah… We've gone to bars, both as men and as women, but it's still difficult, there. As succubi, it's dangerous because of the human men and as incubi, the success rate is still rather low. It's the same when we use websites to arrange things, as well. The human males are obnoxious and scary, and the females don't always answer back. Not just dating sites, either. We've tried sites just for hooking up like we want to do, but the risks are the same."

"You network is gone..." the menace thought aloud.

"It is… Without it, we have to put in so much energy with little reward. It's like the difference between an animal out in the wild and an animal at the zoo..."

"How long have you gone without eating?" Jim's face was serious. He wasn't angry, he was concerned. This man looked like he had an appointment with a grim reaper coming up very soon, and although Jim wasn't savvy or on board with the idea, himself, he understood that it was vital that Taylor eats in the near future.

"About a month?" Taylor sighed. "Maybe a little more… Fuck…" He leaned forward and rubbed his forehead while looking at the floor. "I know I look awful… It doesn't help, either…"

"You don't have to hide your form. Save your energy."

Hesitantly, the incubus took the demon up on his offer and reverted back to his normal shape. His skin was solid purple and he now had horns and a tail, although the skin on both was somewhat ashy and dry. "Thank you… I'm sorry..." He was still very thin and worn down, but he looked slightly better.

"It's alright. Don't overexert yourself."

"It's hard… Things were hard in Gehenna, but not like this…" Shaking his head, the incubus continued. "We didn't have networks in Gehenna, either, and the incubi and succubi there didn't want us there… They didn't like that we didn't follow their rules- their beliefs… Some of use were okay with their restrictions, but a lot of use weren't. Now, we can't afford to have any at all. Some of the risks the others are taking… I'm worried that they're going be killed if they don't starve!"

"Dating sites?"

"Worse, some of them have… I don't want to say who it is- you know that, right?"

"Of course."

"Prostitution." the incubus said. "It's terrible… Luckily, most of them are able to have at least some choice in who they accept, but… It's still very dangerous and it's not even worth it. A lot of those men just want to own somebody for a while; you can't get quality energy from that! It's scraps. It's the worst of scraps!"

"I hear ya..." solemnly replied the Phantomhive, keeping his eyes focused downward on the paper without reading or writing anything. Nobody should have to resort to… "that" for the sake of survival! He didn't know what it was like to be an incubus, but he could somewhat imagine. He didn't want to, but he could. God, he needed his next therapy appointment… Still, the blonde had a job to do, and he was going to do it. "I don't have a solution, yet, but we'll do everything that we can."

"I don't know what you're gonna be able to do about it… It's pretty much over for us… The only ones who have any kind of success are… They're the ones who've gone back to the old ways..."

"What?" Looking up, Jim's face was serious. He had an idea of what the other man was referring to, but he prayed not.

"We have the ability to see what a person desires." Taylor explained with an equally grave tone. "I understand why those in Gehenna have their rules, now. It's so they don't ever feel like they can do this- like they can trick people while they're still dreaming."

"Who are they?"

"I can't say..."

"_Who are they?_" Jim said a bit more firmly. His brows were furrowed and his friendly demeanor had quickly faded. "Mister Lexington, I trust that you understand the severity of what they are doing as well as why they need to stop. You _will _tell me who they are and where I can find them."

"What's in it for me?" the incubus asked in response. Perhaps he had gotten too comfortable, as he rested his arms on the back of his couch. Jim wasn't amused as he noticed the way the other man was looking at him. He hated that. He hated that look, but did his very best to remain professional.

"It appears that you already have something in mind, Mister Lexington."

"Come on… I can sense you're frustrated, you know..."

"I'm married." Jim stated. "Also a prude."

"Husband not paying attention to you?" Taylor questioned.

"Away on business." The Phantomhive didn't bother asking about how he knew his orientation, because he was familiar enough with his friend, Logan, to guess.

"Even better." As Taylor spoke, his appearance began to change. His horns shrunk, his skin changed colour, as did his hair, and the shape of his face and his body began to change. "I can make it worth your while. You help me and I'll help you twice over. How's that?"

Jim's professionalism had limits, unfortunately, prompting him to very visibly roll his eyes. "My husband's a hunk, not a twunk. You're weak enough that you make him look sick! God, I never wanna see him like that... Besides, the eye's wrong!"

"Okay, smart guy, then what the hell do I get out of helping you, huh?!" Taylor demanded with a sour look on his face.

"You get the luxury of not getting arrested."

"I thought you said that you weren't going to do that?"

"That was before I learned that a few of your incubus and succubus homies are committing rape by deception. You can't do that, Mister Lexington. That's a pretty big 'no-no.'"

The incubus opened his mouth to speak, but his words died in his throat. Spelling it out that bluntly was a bit of a shock to him. He knew it was bad, but he hadn't quite gotten the raw perspective of it. "I- Well… Hm..." There were no arguments he could make, either.

"I want names and where to find them, please." Jim reiterated, but the other man was still hesitant.

"They… You're going to… kill them, aren't you?"

"Not my department, I'm afraid. Either HELLSING will pass judgment, or they will be judged by their supernatural peers." Personally, Jim would, but he wasn't going to say that. "Please… You know that what they're doing is wrong and seriously damaging to other people. It'll bring you down, too, in the end..."

Jim walked out of that apartment with a list of names and addresses, leaving the incubus alone with his head in his hands. The demon descended the stairs back down to the ground floor and traveled to his awaiting car. He felt no remorse for the things that he knew came next. He knew that the names on that list would surely end up dead in the very near future, but he would not shed a single tear for them. They were monsters, in his eyes, and should be dealt with accordingly. He would take those names to the appropriate authority once he returned to headquarters, but for the time being, he pulled out his cellphone and sent a message.

At headquarters, he briefed the taskforce for the relevant mission on what he had found. "In addition to the information about illegal incubi and succubi activity in London, when I went to location C that was retrieved from the relevant letter, I retrieved a list of names and locations of those committing said crimes." he explained. "I have disclosed those locations to the appropriate departments, but one name that came up is extremely relevant to this investigation, as is further evidence of something that we already knew. Hammond Granger is not who he says he is."

* * *

**A/N: Hello~! I'm back again~! Was it even long enough for you to notice? I haven't had my computer for... Since last monday? I dunno. The post is on tumblr, somewhere. I had my phone. My laptop charger has a broken part on it, so I haven't been able to write or post this. I was able to "liberate" the chord I needed from someone else, but I'll probably have my own soon and can give it back. Amazon let me down, y'all... I'm going to have to like, go to stores and ASK people...  
**

**Anyway, how are y'all? How are things? I was so lost without being able to write... *sobs***

**BUT! I did have a chapter part of the way through when I was so rudely cut off by technological difficulties, but at this rate, it should be done very soon. I kinda hesitated on posting this one, actually. I have no idea what the consensus on this arc is. Chapters will be posted into the void, regardless.**

**And to Jman. 'Sup, Jman? He lives in the void, apparently. Prime real estate. Low costs of living. Good schools for his Jchildren.**

**Or something?**

**It's been a while. I don't remember how to do A/Ns. They're lost on me. I'm lost- Adrift in this duckless pond.**

**Until the next chapter, my void-duckies~!**


	22. Field Trip To Hell

Gerlois prepared himself by packing his things back into his cabinet and binding it with the blanket that he was often found sitting on, sticking the straps through the fabric so that Gerlois could still carry his things on his back. Pulling out a stick of inscense and holding the wooden stick of it between his teeth, he stepped out of his shack, leaving nothing behind but a small pile of ashes on the floor. Once outside, he lit the stick in his mouth and breathed a sigh of the fresh, quiet air he polluted with smoke, and approached the small group that was waiting for him.

He had accepted Brodrick's offer on his own terms- those terms being that he will not stay, but rather, teach a few of the villagers how to carry out the work themselves. It was a fair bargain, but the merchant was not really looking forward to it. It detracted from his actual work, but could very well prove advantageous, as well. Still, he was very suspicious of Brodrick and was more than aware of the fact that he was being watched.

Brodrick had chosen two black-collars to go with Gerlois. They were werewolves, but not faoladh. They were fresh-faced and bright-eyed, so Gerlois wasn't too worried about them. This choice was a mistake on Brodrick's part. They were too full of wonder to come away from this without learning about the larger supernatural world and they were too talkative to keep it to themselves. They would be excellent merchants between supernatural communities, if they were able to make the trip. Luckily for them, one of them had a car, so it wouldn't take them days to get to Gehenna and back.

The first black-collar was a young woman by the name of "Maven" whose favourite colour was apparently black. She was dressed in it from head to toe, save for a splash of colour on her t-shirt. Despite her less-than-cheerful colour palette, she seemed eager for the adventure, as did the second of the pair, whom Gerlois had helped previously.

Lobo had collapsed from exhaustion before, so it was beyond Gerlois as to why Brodrick chose him for this trip. He was known to be a rather handsome man with dark hair and piercing, baby blue eyes. Unlike his counterpart, he was dressed like a stereotypical lumberjack, although somehow, it suited the idea of a werewolf in a way that the merchant could not explain. He had a faux-silver ring on his hand in the shape of a wolf that he always prominently displayed, as did everyone else with their own similarly-themed trinkets.

"All packed?" Gerlois questioned, prompting the lycanthropes to either hold up or gesture to their backpacks. "Good. We shouldn't need the extra clothes, but who knows? The trip could wind up being longer than I thought, and we might need to stop. Are we all set?"

"Yep!" Maven grinned, enthusiastically holding up her car keys. "There should be enough room for everything. It's not a huge car, but I'm sure we can squeeze enough in."

"Good. Let's be off, then. If we're lucky, we could be home before dinnertime." Gerlois put his belongings in the backseat before stopping the other man in the group before Lobo could commandeer the front seat. "Hey, hey, I'm navigating." the merchant said, shooing the other man away. "Move along, boy."

With a roll of his eyes, the other man chuckled and did as he was told, surrendering the seat to the man in charge. A small crowd had gathered as the group piled into the vehicle, waving them off as the engine roared to life. It was a beat-up little Saab that looked like it had changed hands a few times, but it would get the job done. Maven shifted into gear and hit the gas, propelling them down the long driveway and finally onto the street. She turned left and the trio began their journey- their journey that involved driving a few hours to London before driving longer still through traffic in order to finally reach the abandoned sector that Gehenna resided in.

The whole time, Gerlois was being drilled with questions. They wanted to know about the people, the sights, the atmosphere, about what could be found there- practically everything that came to mind, despite the fact that they would eventually see it for themselves. While the merchant was pleased with their enthusiasm, he grew tired of answering all of their questions and simply wanted some quiet for a while.

As they drove along, it became apparent that Granger Farm was the ugliest in the area. It had that giant fire pit and all of those "rustic" structures littering the landscape, while all the other farms had nothing but greenery- greenery, and cows, and sheep. The animals speckled the fields, but were so serene, that they weren't spoiling things. They only enhanced them, blocked off by modern, barbed-wire fences and mossy, stone walls that had been up for hundreds of years, at least. It wasn't the same as living in a forest, per se, but the villagers make do, and it was overall a pretty good place to start tiptoeing one's way back to nature.

The windows were down as to let out the incense smoke and Lobo started by playing "airplane" with the wind before finally just sticking his whole head outside. He howled and acted rowdy, prompting the woman driving to laugh and the merchant to roll his eyes. He was eager to get back to the village to continue his work, but was hoping to make the most of this detour. It took hours of putting up with this before they reached London, but finally, with the sun high in the sky, now, they reached the gates of Gehenna.

"Drive slowly." Gerlois ordered. "Look harmless. We're leaving the car outside the gate."

"We still have to carry all of the goods, though?" Lobo inquisitively reminded. "We're going to carry it all?"

"If you're a werewolf and can't carry the amount we're buying, then you've got bigger problems." the merchant said as the car was parked and switched off. He lit another stick and approached the guard office. Casually, he knocked on the glass three times as the guard approached the window.

"Name." was all the guard said.

"Gerlois Gagnon." the merchant answered, prompting the man on the other side of the glass to nod before entering it into the computer. He rubbed his nose with a lazy expression before his brows raised and he turned in his chair to face the window again before rolling over to it. Standing up, the guard reached for the chain around his neck at the end of it was a stone with a hole weathered straight through the middle. He held it up to his left eye and squinted at the merchant before sitting down again.

"Welcome to Gehenna, mister… uh..." the guard paused, glancing at the computer again. "...Gagnon."

"These two are with me. They're going to register at the Welfare Center. I'll walk them through the process." Gerlois stated.

"Very good. Have a nice day, then, sir."

"Right-o!" the merchant said with a small salute before turning back at his compatriots. "Get a move on, kiddos, we've got business to attend to!" He gestured for the pair to follow him as the gates slowly began to open.

As they stepped onto mainstreet, the black-collars were surprised. Gerlois didn't know how. He wasn't sure what they were expecting. Some run-down hovel? Maybe they were expecting a place more like their own, but no, it was a pleasant-looking, small, community that was built from the remnants of old buildings. It was clean and it was bright. There were plants in boxes in windows and nice benches and streetlamps. Some buildings were painted, either just for a splash of colour or with murals depicting important figures and symbols. They immediately sparked a few questions.

"Who's that?" Maven questioned, gesturing at one of the paintings. It was of a young, dark-haired man with red eyes and a haughty expression on his face and sunflowers framing him.

"That guy? He's 'Babyface' Baldassare. He's a famous author and supernatural activist." Gerlois said. "He was the head of Girasol, the most powerful vampire coven in London, if not all of the United Kingdom. He died last year, so you're probably going so see a few more memorials around here."

"Oh…" the woman replied, fearing that she might have said something insensitive. She dropped it while her fellow lycanthrope pointed out another common trend.

"What about the lions?" Lobo asked. "People seem to like them a lot."

"Lions are the symbol of the city. Sort of like how you all are wolves and subsequently use a lot of wolf imagery, Gehenna has adopted the lion as their mascot. There's even one on the flag. Now, it may make it a little trickier to find wolf-related artwork, here, but I'm sure we'll find something. First stop, though, is the Welfare Center, just up ahead."

"Welfare?"

"As in 'the welfare' of the town- it's well being. You can lodge complaints, find work, find housing, you should be able to get a couple of pamphlets there on lycantrhopy and vampirism for newcomers, or you can buy books on it there, or at the books store-" Abruptly, Gerlois shook his head. "Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself- We're going to get you registered into the system so that you can get through the gates on your own, whenever you like- I will tell you one thing, though..." Stopping, the merchant turned around and pointed at the two.

"I don't feel right going in without telling you, first: You will be registering into the HELLSING database. That means that they will have basic information on you if you are suspected in a supernatural-related disturbance."

"They're the ones who hunt us if we hurt humans, right?" Maven asked.

"Right. They don't come unless they think you're up to no good, or they think that you might threaten the secret of supernaturals existing. Otherwise, they don't care. They want everyone to register, however. The only other reason for it, apart from having your information in case you become wanted, or getting through that gate…. Is the census." Gerlois informed before shrugging and dropping his hands to the side. "They need to know how many people are either living or coming through town so they can make sure there's enough resources to go around." He clapped his hands once and rubbed them together before turning around to start walking again, all the while, his underlings looked at one another with a concerned expression.

"Anyway, shall we?" he asked, stepping onto the sidewalk and grabbing a doorhandle. Pulling on it, he gestured for the others to go inside before following them and letting the door shut on it's own.

The inside of this building was also nice. It was a pleasant lobby with couches and magazines on a coffeetable off to the side in one corner as well as plants to brighten the place up a bit. Like the rest of the city thus far, it was clean, with friendly-looking staff that smiled at them as soon as they made eye-contact.

"Hello!" the two of them greeted. One was a man with curly, black, hair and a long, gentle, face. The other was more shocking to the pair, however. She was a succubus with light purple skin and horns. They couldn't see it because she was sitting down behind a desk, but she also had a tail, which might have shocked them even more. She spoke up first.

"Can we help you?" she asked, prompting the merchant to walk up to her side of the front desk, placing his hands on its surface.

"Yes, these two..." He paused, turning around to look at his underlings for emphasis, only to roll his eyes and gesture for them to walk up to the desk as well. "...need to register as supernaturals."

"Alright! I'll give you the forms..." the woman trailed off, opening a drawer. "Just the two?"

"Yes, please. I'm already in the system."

"Okay, I'll just go over it with them real quick, then." the woman stated while standing up. Gerlois stepped back and ushered them to the forefront so they could watch as she gestured to one of the forms. "I need you to basically fill out all of the information on here. If you don't know something, it's fine, but the more information, the better. You will, however, need to put wherever it is you're staying down, and if you ever move, you'll need to update your information with us. Alright?"

"O-okay..." The werewolves seemed nervous, but fortunately, Helen had seen this enough times to be very understanding.

"You can go over there and fill it out, if you want to. Then, you can bring it right back up here when you're done!" Fortunately, her smile was one to put people at ease.

"Thank you." The two went off to the waiting area with the sofas and began filling out the surprisingly lengthy packets of paper while Gerlois occasionally stepped in to help. They were surprised at how thorough and organised all of this was. Then again, if it was run by a government agency, that explained it.

Maven and Lobo did know, however, that Gehenna had it's own government council, it's own justice system, and the like as a condition for cooperating with HELLSING. If Gerlois was to be believed, it was a sort of symbiotic relationship. The supernaturals certainly seemed happy and proud to be there. It sort of put the pair at ease when filling out the forms. Eventually, they were finally able to submit them and have their photos taken to complete their identification. After that, they were all set and finally able to do what it was that they came there for.

"That was kind of cool, actually." Maven said as the trio continued to walk down the street. "It's amazing that they're able to do this on this scale… It's huge!"

"It's a developed city." chuckled Gerlois. "Even small towns should keep track of these things. I'm sure there's some way that the chief or Mister Granger has it worked out."

"Maybe. Maybe we can get to this level someday?"

"Could be. It's going to take a lot of money, though."

"How do you know?"

"I was here when this place was rebuilt." Gerlois explained. "Everyone who lived here was working. They picked up hammers, saws, and paintbrushes. They were eager to make this place better, just as you are with the farm. They just needed the tools, but… tools cost money, I'm afraid. Brodrick won't dare let HELLSING get their hands on his town, so you won't have government money to do it. It'll be much, much, slower and three times as hard."

"Do you think it can be done?" Lobo asked.

"Hard to say… Without tipping off HELLSING? You'd be able to. I get the feeling, though, that won't be the case. They'll want a hand in it. Like with registration? They'll want everyone to do that so they can keep track of whos who and who lives where, and they'll want to implement their own laws, alongside yours."

"Don't know if I quite like that..." The wolfman abruptly finding himself blinded by the smoke of Gerlois' incense stick blowing in his face as it was swept up by a gust of win. As he rubbed his eyes, he felt something brush against his shin. Blinking rapidly, he looked down with his teary eyes and strained to see a blue hat with a shiny, black, bill on the ground in front of them. Picking it up, he turned it over, arching an eyebrow as he saw the golden emblem of a lion on the front.

"Hey, you! D'ya mind?" A voice in front of him called out. It's owner took him by surprise. It was an ordinary woman's voice, but when he looked up, he saw a tiger-person walking toward him with a small wave. "That's my hat. I can't be out of uniform on duty!"

A policewoman! A police-tiger! Lobo blinked in response. Was she smiling at him? Or was that just her face? He couldn't tell. He looked at Maven and Gerlois in hopes that they were seeing what he was seeing as well and was in fact, not crazy.

"Uh… Sir? Are you alright?"

"Sorry, officer, he's a newbie." Gerlois stated, covering for Lobo while jabbing the poor man in the side. "It's his first time in a town with a bunch of other supernaturals around. It's probably his first time seeing a weretiger."

"Oh, really?" the officer asked before laughing. She then addressed the wolfman. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. You're not the first person to have ever come in here and had a hard time making sense of things. Are you moving in?"

"What?" Lobo asked, before realising that he was in fact asked a question. "Oh! Uh… No! No, We're just- just passing through." He smiled, but still seemed dazed before remembering that he still had the officer's belongings. "Oh! Your hat..." Awkwardly, he handed it over. "Sorry..."

"It's alright." Still, she was still laughing as she put it back on. That wasn't the most awkward thing he did, however. The most awkward thing he did actually came in the form of the next few sentences that flew out of his mouth.

"You're pretty..." he absent-mindedly said before realising what he said. "I mean-! Your, uh- Your town is pretty great! You, uh, the hat looks great on you, too, y'know? Blue and orange are complimentary colours, so they go together."

Gerlois aggressively introduced the palm of his hand to his forehead while Maven stood behind him while practically dying. Lobo felt like it, but his death would only cause the officer to pay more attention to him, and honestly, he would rather leg it. It was too bad that he was frozen in place as the screaming in his soul grew increasingly louder, drowned out only by the rhythmic beat of his blood pulsing through his ears.

"Right, well, that's a good thing, I suppose, since I wear this everyday." the officer answered. Was that an earnest laugh? Or was it one of the kind one gives when they're trying to be polite? Worse, it could have been the kind that is given when you feel sorry for someone and are trying to make them feel better by pretending to take it as a joke. Lobo didn't know. He didn't even know which of the latter two was worse. "If you need any help, the station is right around the corner up ahead."

"Thanks, officer." Gerlois nodded, putting a hand on Lobo's shoulders before pushing him along the sidewalk. "We'll just be on our way, then. Have a good day."

"You too!" the woman answered while the merchant whisked his two wards away into the book shop, where Lobo promply put his face in his hands before crouching on the floor.

"Do you think if I just died on this trip, nobody back home would notice?" he asked in a muffled voice.

"Probably." Maven stated. "If you weren't such a huge furry, this wouldn't be happening."

"It's never been a problem, before!"

"That was until you found a tiger lady in a police uniform." his friend shook her head. "The lads on furaffinity will never believe you."

"You like furries, too! You check out werewolves!"

"Werewolves don't count."

"I'm sorry, but, what- what are 'furries?'" Gerlois questioned, pinching between his brows with a sigh.

"Animal-people and people who like animal-people." Maven stated. Immediately, Gerlois seemed to be taken aback, but he looked up with furrowed brows and seemed to mull it over a bit more before muttering and turning away, advancing further into the store.

"Where are you going?"

"To find product." the merchant stated without looking back, passing through shelves and occasionally picking up books to consider. Following his lead, the other two did the same, being careful to consider books that would appeal to people in their village. "Don't pick up too many. Scarcity will drive up the price."

"Shouldn't these be available to everyone who wants them?" Lobo asked.

"If you want to carry them all and everything else we get back to the car, by all means..."

Lobo reconsidered and put a few back. Meanwhile, Maven stopped in front of the odd shrine in the store. She felt proud of herself for understanding that it was Baldassare and Baldassare's work, as well as some understanding of why the shrine was necessary to the town. She knew that it was important to "supernatural culture" and knew that others in her village would appreciate it as well. She knew that she had to get some of his works. The problem was: which ones? Right away, she noticed a huge spot where the shelf was empty, sparking some curiosity from within her.

"What was here?" she questioned, looking over her shoulder to address the merchant. Wandering over, Gerlois looked the shelf up and down.

"Could be a new release." he said.

"I thought he was dead?"

"He is, but he had a bunch of unpublished works, too, when he died. Girasol has someone working on getting them out there. Maybe she got one out." Blinking, he found a few books knocked over on the mostly vacant shelf and pulled one out. "This must be the culprit."

He picked up a book called _"Supernatural Historia: The Incomplete History of Supernaturals in the United Kingdom."_ He recognised it. This was one of the Westley girl's projects! Well done! His brow furrowed, however, as he urgently flipped through pages. He was interested in events dating through the past seven or eight years. Finding information on various battles, he was pleased to find that the information there was correct, but what he most heavily scrutinised was an article about one of Gehenna's most important heroes. Upon finding the information to be true, but not displaying any intimate personal details, Gerlois uttered a sigh of relief.

"Sir Jim Phantomhive?" Maven asked, surprising the merchant as she read over his shoulder. "Who's that?"

"Another important figure." Gerlois stated. "He's a good man. Some hack published a book about him recently and it was full of false information. It was so bad, the author read town. It's good to see someone finally doing him justice."

"Huh… We should probably get that, shouldn't we?"

"Yes. Definitely." nodded the merchant before picking up another copy and handing it to the woman. "It's probably one of the most important supernatural documents out there. I have to get one for my personal collection."

"Psh-! So much for not getting too many..." Lobo noted.

"I'm just looking out for you, Lobo. Not everyone can carry as much as I do."

"You think I can't carry everything?"

Gerlois didn't say anything, but shot the man a look while offering a shrug, implying that he in fact did not think so. "Fine!" defiantly said the wolfman. "Give me your stuff! I'll carry it, too!"

With their books, they left the store, with Lobo carrying all of the bags. They continued on, stopping at a few more places, including the woodworking shop and the painting studio. Gerlois took his time in pointing out the people and the symbolism of certain pieces before carrying on, stressing their importance and that they should be looked for in other works of supernatural art. Some pieces were decorative, but they picked up practical items, too. They stopped by The Wolf's Glen and purchased a few potions, salves, and other useful supernatural accouterments before finally arriving at Andrea's, the fabric, clothing, and sewing store of Gehenna, where Lobo finally gave in.

"Okay! I can't carry it all!" he declared as one of the bags slipped out of his grasp and spilled on the floor of the shop. Immediately, Maven walked toward him with a roll of her eyes while the shopkeeper looked on disapprovingly.

"This is where we'll find clothes." Gerlois declared. "Focus on patterns. Patterns will be easier to transport… and also, the clothes are very expensive, so mind the merchandise."

"Seems like you've got your hands full, 'Gerlois.'" the man behind the counter said with a suspicious look on his face. At the same time, he looked amused. "How about I keep an eye on them while you go get your order? It's ready in the back for you. My associate back there will help you find it."

"'Order?" the merchant echoed with a raised eyebrow. Still, when Kristopherson gestured for him to step into the room behind him, the red-head went along with it, not wanting to cause a scene. He already knew what was coming. He knew from the moment he stepped foot in front of the shop. The feeling was so strong, that he felt it from outside.

Stepping forward and wrapping his fingers around the doorhandle, he left Kristopherson to watch his two wards. He opened the door and stepped inside, finding an almost-empty breakroom for Andrea's staff. There was a rack of clothes that hadn't been put on the shelves yet and a few other items on one side, while on the other was a small kitchen area. Leaning against the counter was a rather handsome man, wearing a white t-shirt with it's sleaves rolled up to his shoulders tucked into high-waisted jeans. Around his neck was a gold ring on a chain. It was a lot more intricate than the signet ring on his right hand and the wedding ring on his left. It depicted a lion's head holding a red topaz in its jaws, contrasting greatly with the icy blue eyes that stared back at Gerlois. He looked unamused as he stared back at the merchant through a stray lock of blond hair.

Regardless, the redhead smiled at him. "It's good to see you, Jimmy."

"Don't call me that in that voice." the menace answered. "You know it grosses me out, Ciel."

* * *

**A/N: I wish I had more interesting things to talk about in the author's notes? Some fascination observation or insight into what's going on in my head while I'm writing this nonsense, but sadly, it's just the Mii Channel music on loop apparently.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	23. Reunited And It Feels So Bad

There was a burst of black fire in the backroom of the Andrea's sewing and supernatural clothing store in Gehenna as the merchant known as "Gerlois Gagnon" promptly set himself aflame. He didn't wince or recoil as he wasn't in any pain despite his appearance being drastically altered. His beard burned away and he grew slightly taller. His hair muted from an intense red to a more subdued, but also unique blueish black. Decades burned away from his features and by the time the fire went out, he appeared to be in his early, to mid-twenties. It was somewhat hard to tell, as he had a mature air about him. Always did. Finally, he opened his eye, revealing a purple glow as he removed the incense stick from between his teeth before extinguishing it in his palm. Staring back at the man before him, he opened his arms and gestured to himself.

"Is this more pleasing to your eyes?" he asked. His voice wasn't as rough and strained. It was smooth and his accent was posh. He was charming, despite looking a right mess, but the menace still seemed a bit miffed.

Pushing against the counter he was leaning against, Jim stood upright and casually sauntered over to the Watchdog. Now, Ciel felt as though he might know what this was about. He had left his post by suggesting to take the black-collars out that day. Worse, he was being friendly with them while his husband was waiting for him at home. Any moment, now, Ciel expected a severe tongue-lashing to whip him back into shape, but it didn't happen. Instead, the air was abruptly forced from his lungs as the menace wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed tightly. Leaning his head against Ciel's shoulders, he seemed to deflate with a long sigh, relaxing against him while Ciel somewhat confusedly embraced him in return.

"This pleases my arms." Jim replied with closed eyes. "We still fit together perfectly."

"I'm glad." Ciel answered, smiling as he gently pressed his cheek against the blonde's hair. He took a deep breath through his nose, taking in the other man's scent. He knew it was a bit creepy of him, but it was strange the sort of things he missed while he was gone. "I missed you."

"I miss you, too." the menace replied. His beau could hear the slight pout in his voice.

"How are things at home?"

"Terrible. We're managing, though. Are the front lines okay?"

"I'm sorry… I don't want you to be in that position."

"It's fine. It's for the mission, so we gotta do what we gotta do."

"The farm is… different. I definitely don't trust Brodrick, but the people aren't so bad. They're awkward and I'm learning about all kinds of internet subcultures, but they've created a culture of their own that you'd find interesting."

"You mean a cult?"

"It hasn't quite reached that place yet, but I'm afraid there's a risk."

Jim paused for a moment, thinking about the situation. His hands ran up the bluenette's back before resting at his shoulders. Pushing against him, he forced the other man even tighter against him.

"It makes sense that they wouldn't want you to talk about HELLSING, given the information we have, but you think it could get worse?" the menace questioned.

"I do. Brodrick doesn't want 'Gerlois' to wander anymore and set up a permanent shop. I think those two outside are actually my collars, so I don't run." Sighing, the Earl asked: "I think Granger is starting to wonder where his mail is."

"He can keep wondering. We've been intercepting everything. Phoneline, too. Nothing goes in or out that we don't want to."

"And the troublemakers in London?"

"Everyone on that list has been captured. Dunno what they're gonna do with 'em, next. Probably put to death."

"Hm." Ciel grunted in acknowledgment, already recognising the touchy subject.

"I hate that they were starving, but what they did was worse." Pausing, the blonde asked: "You're not worried about what's going to happen to the farm, are you?"

"A bit. You are too, though."

"If they really are good people, we can relocate them. The humans are the real problem, though. It's going to be a huge mess… I don't know if we have the real estate for all of them, but letting them go is risky… Granger and Brodrick are going down for their crimes, though, either way."

"Of course."

Jim sighed. "That's the situation, anyway." he said. "Not a lot you can do about it, but I thought you should be updated anyway."

"I'm listening." the watchdog said, turning his head to press his face into the side of Jim's head. His hands and arms squeezed the menace, indicating that his thoughts were partially elsewhere. "I'm just getting my fix while I still can."

"I didn't want to come today." confessed the baronet. The news actually made the bluenette pull back away from him in order to get a better look at his face.

"What? Why?"

Jim's eyes closed again as the other man's hands firmly held his shoulders before running down his biceps and stopping at his elbows. "I thought it would make it harder to go back home without you. I still think that. I couldn't resist, though. I mean, Kristopherson offered to arrange this, but I could've said 'no.' I just didn't." He paused, pressing his lips into a thin line, looking down at the other man's chest before resting his hands there. He thought he could leave it at that, but he couldn't. They still wandered upwards and cupped his beau's face.

"I was worried." he said. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Silly you." smiled the bluenette, looking back at him. "I'm fine. You don't need to worry. This isn't like any of the times I've been captured, alright? At the first sign of trouble, I'll make a run for it and call HELLSING. That's the plan that I've promised to follow."

"I know." the menace nodded. "I just… I'm not good at this sort of thing. The whole… 'waiting' thing. I want results and I want them now."

"You always do. It's one of your quirks."

"Is it a feature or a flaw?"

"Both, at times."

Shaking his head, the menace uttered a somewhat weak laugh. Blinking, he looked toward the door. "They'll be wondering why you're taking so long, soon." Jim's eyes then looked to his spouse. "Man, I'm really selfish..."

"You aren't, really." Ciel shook back. "The entire reason why I'm taking this little 'field trip' is because I'm taking notes from your playbook. Our greatest tool to get them both on our side and able to function in society is education. Similarly, it is our enemy's worst weakness. If we played by my rulebook… well, the ending might not be as happy."

"Fingers crossed."

The two of them simply stood there in silence, knowing that Ciel would have to leave within seconds. Slowly, they ticked away, but neither of them were done talking. They needed to say so much more! It was a shame that they didn't know exactly what they wanted to talk about, really.

"I love you." Jim stated, knowing that above all else, that was the sentiment that was most important to convey.

"I love you, too." Closing his eyes, Ciel leaned in to quickly peck the blonde on the lips, only to find himself kissing the menace's hand. The feeling sent electricity through Jim's fingertips, prompting him to frown. That was just what he was afraid of. His spouse simply looked on confusedly with a baffled look on his face, waiting for an explanation.

"Don't kiss me until you're able to go home." the blonde said. "If you do it now, there's no way you'll be able to leave… Okay?"

Poor Ciel couldn't conceal the disappointment in his voice. "Alright..." Both of them were saddened by this, but the unusual pout on the bluenette's face made it impossible for Jim not to smile.

"You're cute. Definitely pleasing to my eyes."

"As you are to mine." the Earl said. "You're pleasing to my eyes, but also my spirit and health. Living without you feels like living without the sun in the sky. Your light, life, and warmth are greatly missed."

Leaning in closer, the baronet answered quietly in earnest: "I enjoy your flattery and when you get all poetical on me, but if you keep stalling, I'm going to kick you in the shin."

With a haughty expression as if he was very confident in his ability to enamour the other man, the Earl gave his reply. "The sting of returning without you would hurt infinitely more."

Jim simply nodded and soon after, "Gerlois Gagnon" limped out of the back room with a bundle of wares. He wore a very vexed look on his face indeed. The merchant roughly set his items on the counter to be checked out before grouchily turning to face his associates.

"Come on, then! Put what you're getting on the counter!" he gruffly ordered, prompting a questionable look from Mister Miles as he gave the merchant his total.

"I hope that you found everything alright..." Kristopherson offered as the Watchdog shelled out his money.

"You will do well to teach your 'employees' some manners, Mister Miles!" Picking up his things again, the merchant turned on his heel and walked out the doors, prompting his confused wards to briskly follow behind him.

The trio left Kristopherson to ponder what must have happened. He waited a while, watching them disappear down the street before he turned around, himself, and headed toward the back room. Poking his head inside, he saw the menace pacing around with his arms folded.

"Is everything… okay?" questioned the owner of the shop.

"Dunno." Jim replied. "I'm in a weird place where I want to go after him and drag him home, but also kick his ass."

"In a good way or a bad way?" Kristopherson asked further.

"I don't know!" The menace roughly dropped his hands at his sides and let out an exasperated sigh. "I just-! I hate this case! It's fucked up, I don't know how to fix it, and I want my husband back! While he's off playing dress up, I'm the one who has to piece together all of the information he gives us, come up with plans, and convince the old farts in the HELLSING meetings not to do anything fucking idiotic! Then there's the house, and… Ugh! It's annoying!"

"Jim… I think you need to take a step back for a couple hours..." suggested the wolfman. "You're acting a bit crazy..."

"Good! I feel crazy!"

"What happened?" Kristopherwon questioned, getting to the point. "Did you have a fight?"

"No… Not really… I just- Ugh… I shouldn't have come."

"Are you glad you got to see him?"

"Yes! I just- I don't want to just _see_ him or hug him for a little while. I want the mission over with so everything can go back to normal."

"Well… I don't know what to tell you." shrugged the wolfman while leaning against the counter. "Do you want some of us to come over and help you out around the house?"

"Should I trust you with all that?"

"Lois, all of us have been living on our own without any parents, maids, or nannies, for a couple of years, now. If we can't handle a little bit of laundry, then you should be wondering how we're still even alive." Reaching out, he patted the Phantomhive on the shoulder. "C'mon. I'll put the kettle on. I need a break. I always forget how amazing everything is to newbies… At least they didn't trash the store..."

Indeed, the two werewolves were reasonably well-behaved, although they had a lot of questions about Gehenna and about supernaturals in general. Being the helpful shopkeeper that he was, Kristopherson did his best to answer them all, although he found their passion a bit overwhelming. Were these the nerds that Ciel spoke about when talking about his time training his HELLSING platoon last fall? Mister Miles had no idea how a guy like Ciel didn't tear their heads off. Seriously, how is Kristopherson supposed to know every single existing species of supernatural off of the top of his head?!

They were gone, though. They finished up their shopping and lugged their haul back to the car. It took the trio a long time to figure out how to both arrange the goods and make room for them to fit as well. Poor Lobo was nearly crushed to death in the backseat from the moment he stepped inside, and worse, it was a several horu-long trip back to the farm. They joked that if he wasn't a werewolf, he might not have survived. He almost believed it, too.

Unfortunately for them, they were behind schedule and realised that they probably missed dinner. On the bright side, they were able to stop and eat, with Maven and Lobo paying, since they immediately thought that the sour expression on the merchant's face was due to the possibility of of losing more money on this trip than he had to. That, and they were glad that they were able to see the city. They were eager to tell the others about both it and the things they saw. They understood the importance of knowing where their wares came from, now. They were on their way with knowledge and with eagerness, they had an abundance, but the merchant, the Earl of Phantomhive in disguise, did not feel inclined to pass judgment on their business capabilities until he saw how they were with money. Depending on how all of this turned out, he may one day find out.

"Pull over here, for a moment." he instructed Maven.

"Why?"

"There's something I need to do before we get there."

Although the woman was confused, she did what she was told. There was no reason for her not to trust the man at this point despite not having the foggiest idea as to what he was doing. Ciel began to dig around his tunic. In reality, he was unraveling his demonic threads in order to retreive the small case he sought, but he couldn't let them see.

"Roll up your windows." he said while doing so on his own side of the car. "I need to give you something. You musn't breathe a word of it to anyone or of where you got them, understood?"

"Depends on what it is..?" Lobo leaned forward in his seat while the demon turned to try and face them both at once. Ciel's alias wore a particularly grave look on his face as he spoke the words he had been thinking about during the entire trip back.

"I've sensed something in the village." he explained. "Ordinarily, it's a neutral thing. It's ordinary and is usually harmless. It's been harmless for centuries. Lately, I have reason to suspect otherwise and that older practices have been resurfacing, however. I have these to protect you. Talismans. I only have a few, but if you replicate them in other locations, it will have the same effect."

He handed them both a wooden rectangle that was about the size of one's palm. They had a rather complicated mess of sigils on them, but were still fascinating, all the same. It was especially so for a pair of folks who were new to magic and the supernatural.

"Keep it under your pillow or on your person at all times when you are asleep." Ciel continued. "If you awaken to find anything out of the ordinary, scream as loud as you can. Make noise and wake the neighbours. Do not wear them during the day or in public, though. People will think you've gone mad."

"What is the thing?" Lobo asked. "What's out there?"

"People. They're supernaturals, but it's more correct to call them 'people,' even if they aren't particularly good. You saw them in Gehenna, so please don't believe that all of them are like this. Most of them are absolutely not and it is not a universal behaviour. They're incubi and succubi. These will help you see their real form."

Blinking, Lobo froze, looking down, but not seeing anything. Ciel could see what was happening inside his head at that moment. He knew some dots had just connected for him and he had the demon's utmost sympathies. There was no way that Ciel was going to call him on it, however. Not now. It was too soon. Lobo hadn't adjusted and Maven was still in the car with them and didn't know.

"Does the alpha know?" Maven asked. "The chief?"

"I'm not sure..." the Phantomhive lied. He was certain that Brodrick knew. He didn't have proof, but he was absolutely sure of it. "Don't tell him, though. I will. When the time is right. One has to be very careful about these things. If we are too hasty, the entire village could go into a panic. As exciting and new as all of this supernatural business is, you must always remember: Just like humans, supernaturals can be good. When they're good, they can even be really good people. Some of the best you've met. Sometimes, however, they can be not-so-good. And like with humans, that is something to be careful of. Am I clear?"

Maven blinked and looked down as well, although she wasn't quite as shaken as her compatriot. In her case, it was more the responsibility that this entails than anything. Yet, all the same, she nodded with a determined look. In that moment, Ciel knew that he had another agent in the village- in some part, at least. It was his hope that they would secretly spread the symbol. If they got caught, "Gerlois" would be in the clear.

Thus, they took off again. The car was deathly quiet the entire way back. Everyone had to process what they had seen, heard, and done. Ciel had to think about whether or not it was a mistake to let them in on the secret this soon, but seeing how Lobo was so exhausted during the day? He couldn't.

Peacefulness was just about to seep into his mind as they started down the driveway to the farm, but as they entered the actual property, dread took serenity's place. He could sense something different, now that he was in range. The town was quiet and all of the people inside of it had gone inside their homes for the night, but he felt something more. While there was plenty that wasn't supposed to be there, he felt something additional that wasn't there before. Furrowing his brow again, he stepped out of the car and helped the other two store their purchases in his own small shack. After that, he waved the others off and went inside.

There, he waited, and waited, and waited, hoping that it would be late enough for them to have fallen asleep. He waited, dressed in his nightclothes, wide awake in the dark of his shack as he anticipated the next move. Eventually, he heard his phone vibrate. Picking it up, the bright light of the screen shattered the darkness as Ciel squinted to read it.

_ "Vampires arrived hours ago. Small coven. They've been talking with Brodrick and Granger in the farmhouse all night. I have taken the liberty of listening in on your behalf, as you were absent. They are discussing the installation of the septic system using coven funds. The head of the coven is a rather wealthy woman, however, regrettably, she is a familiar presence. Do you remember Mademoiselle Lapointe, my lord? -S"_

"Lapointe?" Ciel squinted at the name. Immediately, the name combined with the description sparked something buried in his ever-expanding memory. He was taken back over one hundred years ago, shortly after experiencing the turn of the century for the first time. The image was foggy, with details missing, but he recalled a townhouse in France and a rather irritating young woman who was always pestering him about this and that, always wanting him to open up his heart to her, which only cemented the walls around it more firmly in place. She was kind, but naive, despite the things that she had seen. She had been bitten by a vampire rather recently, then. In fact, she was one of the first that Ciel had seen. He had helped her gather a network around herself and even pointed her in the direction of blood on occasion. Of course, she never went and acquired it herself. Always a servant. It was as though she wanted to pretend that the gruesome parts never happened. Thus, her eyes were able to stay the pretty, deep, blue, that they always were instead of turning red. In return, she offered him a place to stay until he got his bearings and was able to move into his own apartment. He couldn't remember why he didn't have one in the first place, however. That was lost in the stream of time, but for two years, he stayed in Lapointe's townhouse and gave her advice.

She was a pretty thing who was the type that everyone flocked to, hoping to take advantage of her kindness and lack of healthy suspicion in order to take her beauty and her wealth for themselves. She owned land, although the day didn't quite permit it universally, and Ciel was able to teach her how to invest in sensible ways. Despite the flawnessness of her skin, the length of her fluttering eyelashes, and the way that her dirty blonde hair fell into perfect curls, Ciel was not fond of her. True, that they were close in age at that point, but Ciel refused to grow up and move on. Moreover, he simply couldn't stand her willful ignorance. Ignorance could be forgiven, but not the kind that takes effort. Still, it did not stop her from insisting that he grow up soon. He shuddered remembering it. She wasn't subtle about it and it gave him the creeps.

The Phantomhive couldn't imagine her leaving France, however. He figured that she would want to stay in her make-believe "palace" forever. Something must have happened. But what? Ciel was certain that he could find out, but now was not the time. It was more important to figure out if this was a problem or not. If he could, he thought he should try and take advantage of this. If he could turn Mademoiselle Lapointe and her underlings into allies, that would be ideal.

Could he, though? That was the real question. Ciel didn't know if he still had a working relationship with Lapointe, let alone a decent one. Perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea to move out of her townhouse without even so much as a note to explain where he went, but that's where they stood at that moment, so the Watchdog needed to work with it. It's all he had and it was the only starting point he was going to get. Letting out an audible groan, he dragged his feet back over to the bed and sat down with the note still in his hand.

He was going to have apologise. Worse, he might even have to grovel. Why did he had to be such an idiot back then? Ciel knew that he was going to have to turn on some charm and in all sincerity, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Now, he needed a plan and that's just what he spent his timethat night concocting. After a few messages home to make sure that his beau knew what had happened, Ciel prepared himself for another day as Gerlois Gagnon.

* * *

**A/N: This is a short one... Unfortunately, Lapointe doesn't make an appearance this time, because if she did, this chapter would be waaaaaaay too long. Fingers crossed for next time~! **

**On another note, I think her name being "Lapointe" is funny, somehow... Like, I know "the point" is supposed to be a spear or something, but all I can imagine if vampire fangs. "Gagnon" is a joke on it's own. Not really a "laugh out loud" kinda funny, but funny in the sense that "Seriously, Ciel?"**

**Poor Jim, though... I wanna write about his side of things in a few chapters... It's pretty interesting, I think.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	24. A Polite Dinner

Ciel was in quite a pickle. He was still forced to maintain the form of a much older man, which was slightly embarrassing, at best, but he was also forced to sit on his blanket with two black collars and sell his wares. Maven and Lobo were a lovely pair. Nice folks. Hard workers. Fast learners. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that with them around, he couldn't get up and do any investigating. Luckily, he had a backup to do it for him, and there was a bit of investigating for him to do in his shop, as well.

For example, he found it to be rather curious that Brodrick made a beeline to his shop in such a chipper mood that morning. Even more curious was the reason why. The wolfman stopped directly in front of him and crouched down to look at the demon's wares, his pointed ears falling back on top of his head as he stared at the many vials on the blanket with great interest.

"Good morning, my lord." Gerlois greeted, his breath blowing some of the smoke from his incense stick directly at the other man's face, causing him to jolt back.

"Ugh! Good morning!" The chief still tried to greet Gerlois properly despite his need to cough. "Good God, that smell is worse than the last!"

"Dragon's Blood. Not actual dragon's blood, of course- it's a scent. Creates a lot of smoke." the merchant said. "It's good for cuts and scrapes, you see. My foot got caught in my blanket this morning and I fell to the floor. Skinned my knee."

"Oh…" Tadgh gave the other man a sympathetic look. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm alright. Thank you. Now, is there anything in particular that you're in the market for?"

"Yes! I'm actually looking for… what is it? Shadow gel?"

"Shade gel? Are you very worried about sunburns, my lord? That seems a bit excessive."

"No, not at all." Brodrick paused, looking around for a moment before leaning in to speak to the merchant in a hushed voice. "I think I may have found an answer to our money problem." he said.

"Really?" the Watchdog questioned, feigning inorance while matching the other man's volume. "Do tell."

"While you were gone, just before supper, this coven of vampires strolled up to town and asked to stay here. The woman, Miss Lapointe, who's their leader… She's rich. They're all French, and apparently, she was some aristocrat over there once upon a time. Anyway, she wants to take a look at the town and see if she wants to invest in building it up. We won't have to scrimp and save forever to get proper plumbing!"

"Oh? That's wonderful!" That's what Ciel thought he was up to. "I didn't get much, but I do have a little bit. How much do you need?"

"All of it."

"Oof, alright, then. Let me get the rest out of my bag..." the merchant said, getting up slowly with a grunt. "Maven, package up all of it here while I'm gone."

Slowly, he began walking back to his shack. When he got back, he dug around in the bag with his mind deep in thought. If he was going to slip something to his old acquaintance, Mademoiselle Lapointe, now was his chance. What if he taped a note to the inside of the lid? Would she be the one to find it? Would someone else? Would she even believe it or trust it if she did? There were so many possibilities that it didn't seem like a safe bet.

He hated this. This wasn't him. This sort of thing worked with Jim, as it was the menace's so-called "playbook" that he was trying to emulate in order to achieve a result. There were much faster ways of making the village submit. Jim was right about one thing, however. Building relationships with the people of the village will ultimately make their transition to Phantom House or wherever they were going much easier. It was better that they trust HELLSING, rather than fear it. That is why Ciel couldn't follow his own instincts and destroy the enemy. That was a last resort if the first course of action failed. Oh, how complicated this all was.

Sighing, he stood with his entire surplus of shade gel in hand. As he stepped outside, however, he squinted and watched as the chief spoke to his two wards. Meekly, they made themselves small and kept shaking their heads. Realisation struck the Watchdog and he quickly began his trek back to the shop. As he grew closer, the chief looked up and immediately ceased his conversation. Standing up, he offered the merchant a smile.

"Is that all of it, then?" Brodrick questioned with a serene look on his face.

"I'm sorry, I could only find two more." Gerlois answered, shaking his head. Casually, he presented the other man with his goods, placing them in the cloth bag that the chief had brought. It was a bag made of fabric from Kristopherson's store in Gehenna. Ciel recognised it. He even knew who he sold it to and it wasn't Brodrick. Someone made it for him. Probably one of his subjects.

Brodrick placed a meager amount of money in Ciel's palm. It wasn't even close to allowing "Gerlois" to break even on the money he spent on the product himself, but Brodrick acted like he wasn't going to give him any more.

"Thank you." the chief stated as if the words were a blessing. "I'll be sure to show her your shop sometime!"

"I would be most appreciative." the merchant replied, returning the courtesy, only as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he was facing the other man's back. Reaching up, the redhead removed his cap with one hand and scratched his messy locks with the other.

"He didn't pay for that..." Maven said aloud, her eyes wide with disbelief. Gerlois paused to look at her before putting his hat back on his head and taking a seat next to her.

"It's fine. It's best not to mess with it." he answered. "More trouble than it's worth."

The woman looked down at that, thinking about it rather than answering. It was alright, however. Lobo ended up saying what she wanted to.

"He was asking us about our trip to Gehenna." the wolfman informed.

"Oh, yeah?" the merchant said, removing the wooden stick from his mouth and flicking it off into the distance to parts unknown. Immediately after, he put another incense stick between his teeth and pulled out his lighter. "What about it?"

"Mostly about how bad it was." Lobo rested his elbow on his crossed legs before resting his cheek in his palm, looking at the merchant with furrowed brows. "Like he wanted us to say it sucked!"

"He was asking about HELLSING, mostly." Maven added, finally speaking up. "Like if we saw any soldiers."

"We didn't see any." her compatriot huffed. "It really weirded me out."

"He's under a lot of stress..." Ciel informed. "But, it seems that his stress will be lessened if his new benefactor says 'yes' to his request."

"Think they will?" Lobo questioned.

"Hard to say… Maybe, maybe not. He's hopeful, though. The real problem is if HELLSING catches word of it. From what I've heard, I bet they'll be sending someone over soon..."

"Why? What happens if they do?" inquired the wolfwoman.

"Also hard to say… They might want to do what they did with Gehenna and rework it. They'll want their own laws to be enforced and to have everyone register. In exchange, they'll make the place livable. The other alternative is to relocate it. We're awfully close to other people, so it's a bit of a problematic spot for them, is the thing."

"And why do you think that they'll find us?" the woman pressed further, but the answer was really quite simple to explain away as if Ciel had no involvement.

"Lapointe." he said simply. "Mademoiselle Lapointe. I've heard of her. She was at one time a powerful leader of a coven of vampires in France. She was very wealthy, which is why she's his mealticket. I don't know if she still is any of that, though. For her to come to England and settle in a place like this? That's suspicious… In addition, it would be very, very, hard for a vampire who is that prolific to reach English soil without tipping of HELLSING. They're probably on her trail, if they don't know where she is already." Suddenly, he sighed. "Ah, what a mess..."

"Is it that bad?"

"Well, I'd really rather not be here if they have to visit more than once. Once is fine, but if Brodrick doubles down, it could be kind of scary." Turning to the others, he added: "Pyestock is nice… You want to go back to being with nature, right? It won't have the same culture until you make it, but it's hidden in a forest and you can get there by bus from Gehenna. There's some kitsune and tanuki- Japanese transforming foxes and raccoon dogs, who might have similar ideas to you. You should go have a look someday."

Lobo and Maven simply blinked at what he was saying. They didn't suspect he was up to anything malicious, but they understood that something wasn't right. Particularly, they saw how strange Brodrick was acting, and those charms, too, were concerning. Silently, without knowing what the other's intentions were, they both simultaneously decided that if things get bad, Pyestock was an option.

The day dragged on and customers came and went. They saw no more signs of Brodrick, but Mister Granger was out and about. He often was, and even stopped by the shop. He was tall and wide and blocked out the sun as he stared down at the group. Soon, he crouched down and had a look at their wares.

"Hello, Mister Granger." Cheerfully greeted Maven, only to be startled by a small gasp from beside her, causing her head to whip around to find the source. There, sitting on the blanket on one side of her was Lobo, staring at the farmer with wide, fearful eyes. His body was tense. Sweat gathered at his brow as he tightly gripped the bottom of his shorts in his fists. Concerned, Maven looked to Gerlois for help, but the redhead only put a finger to his lips, silently warning her not to say anything.

"Is there anything in particular that you're looking for today?" Gerlois questioned, keeping things moving as to not draw suspicion, prompting the farmer's attention to turn from the items on the blanket to him.

"I was wondering if you have any stationary." The farmer said. "I'm out and I have a few letters to write."

"Sorry, we didn't go anywhere to buy any. I'll be sure to add it to the next excursion for next time, though."

There was a pause, followed by Mister Granger standing up with a grunt. "Don't worry about it." he said. "I'll add it to the shopping list. Thanks, though."

"Any time. Do tell me if there's anything else you need."

After that, the group sat in silence as the village elder walked away. They were quiet until the man was out of earshot. After that, Gerlois spoke up, but made sure to keep his voice low.

"I told you not to wear the talisman out in public." he said as Lobo began to relax very slightly.

"He… He's purple… And he has horns…" the wolfman said, capturing the attention of Maven.

"...Yeah. He does." Gerlois replied. "I'm sorry."

The crashing realisation that Gerlois was talking about Mister Granger shook the two black collars to their core. They knew it was a problem, but it didn't occur to them that it could happen that high up on the chain. Did Brodrick know? Was that why the merchant told them not to talk about it with him? So many questions raced their their minds as they sat there in stunned silence. It was a betrayal. It was a betrayal of trust so profound, that neither of them really knew what to do with it. The seal on the talisman only identified incubi and succubi, so the Watchdog's secret was safe, although neither of the other two thought that he was human for a second. They just didn't know what he was.

Lobo had connected the dots the moment that Gerlois made him aware of the situation, however. He knew a legend or two. He understood why he was exhausted all of the time and that his dreams weren't really dreams. He knew that Gerlois knew, too. He knew that the merchant told him to protect him, but wasn't going to bring it up until he was ready to talk, either. Lobo didn't want to talk. That was good. Lobo still couldn't quite admit a few things to himself. Using the "R" word was impossible for him at that moment.

He felt… stupid. Both of them did. Both him and Maven. All they wanted was to embrace what they felt they truly were inside. They wanted to be free of a human society where they were judged for being different. They wanted to be wolves- noble, wild, and free. A return to nature was still in their hearts and they yearned for it. They wanted it so badly, that they threw everything else away to be there on the farm.

Both of them had some serious thinking to do. Brodrick said that there were vampires, now. If he was willing to feed his people to incubi and succubi, they could only imagine the next step. Something had to be done. Now, Gerlois knew that action would be taken soon. He knew that they would either leave quietly, or leave after leaving as much destruction as they could. The latter, of course, was the option that he hoped for. He had given them the tools. All they had to do now was use them.

Night was coming. Night was probably when those two would strike. Gerlois was sure of it. But most importantly, night time was when he, himself, was most active, and he had work to do. The sun had set, but the "day" had just begun for some.

Inside that old farmhouse made of wood and stone, through the kitchen, down the hallway, and up the creaky, wooden stairs, a pair of eyes opened. She peered through the darkness, finding herself in a wooden box lined with silk and padding. Unsurprised by this, she yawned and tried to settle back in, only to frown deeply at the sound of a knock at the door.

"_Mademoiselle, it's time to get up._" It was a young man's voice speaking to her in french. He paused before knocking again.

"_I heard you..._" the woman answered, pressing her hand against the door of the coffin. "_Open the latch."_

Doing what he was told, the young man opened the coffin, allowing his mistress to sit up. She still didn't seem all that awake, but both of them knew she needed to wake up if she was going to make it in time to see the villagers before they all eventually made their way back to their respective houses. Reaching out his hand, the man helped the young woman to her feet while she used her own free one to keep her white nightgown firmly in place.

She was ushered over to a chair, where the man then took a brush and got to work on her long, dirty blonde, hair. She was a looker, with deep blue eyes and long eyelashes, making her servant appear a bit shabby, next to her. He was a scrappy-looking fellow, with shoulder-length, black hair pulled back into a ponytail and a piece of his ear missing. His eyes were a dark red and his nails looked like talons as he held onto portions of his mistress' hair while brushing it with scarred hands. Once he was finished, he offered a bow and left the woman to wait until a female servant came to the room to help her dress.

It was strange. One wouldn't think that a woman of her age would be unable to dress herself in this day and age, even for a noble, but there she was. That was the state of things. She exchanged her white nightgown for a blue dress. It was plain, by her standards, but she had decided that it was perhaps for the best if she didn't wear anything she didn't want to ruin while on a farm. Once she was decent, the male servant returned to put on and lace her brown, knee-high, boots for her, while the other began braiding her hair in a complicated fashion, making it so none of it fell at her shoulders. Finally, she lifted her chin so that a silver broach with a sapphire in the center could be attached to the front of her collar. With that, she stood, and made her way out of the room.

_ "__Do you know if__ there be anything for us to eat at dinner, __Serge__?"_ she asked while they all descended the stairs.

"_Most likely not, Mademoiselle. I don't even think that their subjects even know that vampires are here."_ the servant said. "_It's probably unlikely that that they will be able to acquire it without raising some questions."_

_ "How rude! Hosting us without feeding us! They even have the gall to ask for money!"_ Once the woman made it to the door, she sighed. "_I guess beggars can't be choosers… I suppose we could always set up shop in a city somewhere with a high crime rate..."_

_ "Perhaps, but supposedly, England has a supernatural response group that's pretty efficient. If we run into trouble, the closest places we could run are all Catholic..."_

_ "I know..._" Sadly, the vampiress sighed. _"I won't ever let that happen again."_

Once in the dining hall, her eyes scanned for a seat, assuming that since the chief of the village was trying to get on her good side, he will probably want her to sit near him. She stiffened as she noticed the eyes of a few curious villagers on her. Unsurprising, as she was not only an outsider, but the werewolves could tell that she smelled different as she walked by. Noticing Brodrick, as it was not difficult to, she made a beeline toward him, only for him to notice and stand with a large grin. The others at his table, including Mister Granger and a few black collars, stood with him as he greeted her.

"Mademoiselle Lapointe!" he vibrantly observed, pronouncing her name in some horrible faux accent. "Good evening! Did you sleep alright?"

"I found it a bit difficult, I'm afraid." She answered, waiting as her servant pulled a chair for her before sitting down. As she sat down, so did everyone else. "It was not anyone's fault, though. The sounds of the city that I'm used to falling asleep to are gone, so it was a little difficult with the countryside being so quiet."

"That's a shame. Hopefully, you'll get used to it quickly." Brodrick offered before seeming to remember something. "Oh! You haven't been introduced to Gerlois, yet! He's our local merchant. He was the one who was able to get shade gel for you."

Turning her head, Mademoiselle Lapointe finally found it to be an appropriate time to examine the only person at the table not to stand as she arrived. He was a scruffy looking older man with firey red hair and an eye that seemed to perpetually stay closed. Stranger still, he had an incense stick in a small holder, gathering ash on top of the table near him. Immediately, she felt repulsed by him, but her feeling changed slightly after he began talking.

_"Good evening, Mademoiselle."_ he said, speaking her native language without any trace of an English accent. "_I am called Gerlois Gagnon. It is a pleasure to see you._" He spoke eloquently with a slight bow of his head and a suave smile. It made her cock an eyebrow as it didn't match his appearance in the slightest.

"You know how to speak French, Gerlois?" questioned Brodrick.

"I know many things. I traveled to France and actually lived there for many years. I even know of Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe. My apologies, milady. Although I have many wares, I'm afraid that I am not equipped to be presentable enough to be in the presence of someone of your calibur. I do hope that you will excuse my poor manners."

There was a pause as the woman reevaluated her opinion. "Not at all." she smiled. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Gagnon." She extended her hand for the man to take and caught a glimpse of his black fingernails as he took it. Immediately, the gears in her head began to turn, but the man did seem a little eccentric, so it could be nothing.

"Oh, really?" Brodrick piped up again. "Is Mademoiselle Lapointe famous, or something?"

"Somewhat." Gerlois nodded. "She is the well-respected head of of the Lapointe coven. She's somewhat famously generous and an intelligent woman that is not to be trifled with."

"You flatter me. Regretfully, I must confess that I am not the coven leader that I once was. All who I have brought here with me is all that is left, making around five, including myself. The rest fell prey to vampire hunters."

That made the merchant paused. Ciel could draw his assumptions and felt as though he could guess who was responsible, but he felt that it was not his place to lay those cards on the table. "I see…" he uttered softly. "You have my most sincerest apologies."

"It is not your fault, nor anyone's but those responsible." Renee said. "There's been a shift in power in my home country as to who will deal with the supernatural population. Until now, it has been the Catholic Iscariot orginisation, but now, the government wishes to have its own group, which has made the prior more aggressive. It is unsafe for us, there. That is why we're here. Although we know that England has it's own organisation, we've been told that they are far less vicious."

Ciel looked down somewhat sadly. He had no idea. Unfortunately, he was ignorant to the status of supernaturals in other parts of the world, so he was somewhat taken aback. It wasn't as though he could do anything about it, but he knew of the Iscariots and how unyielding they could be. They despised HELLSING with venomous passion and felt entitled to hunt where they saw fit. He could only imagine how they must be reacting to news that a local government wants to take matters into their own hands. Knowing Lapointe, it must have been a truly horrific ordeal for her.

"They're plenty vicious." Brodrick stated, his smile fading into a disgusted frown. "They destroyed my people. After defeating them in battle, they brainwashed them into working for their own sick agenda against supernaturals. They run a few supernatural cities, but they're more like ghettos, if you ask me."

Clearly, the chief either had never been to Pyestock or Gehenna, or he was lying. Ciel was certain of it. His claims were, quite frankly, ridiculous, but now was not the time to call him out on it. At least, he wouldn't in regards to everything.

"I would hardly call them that." the Watchdog stated. "They're state-funded, yes, but they're well maintained."

"There you go again about that! I've told you before that I'd appreciate you not spouting that horrible propaganda in my village!"

"Aren't you the one spreading propaganda?" Ciel thought to himself, deciding not to answer the other man verbally. Pleased with the merchant's silence, Brodrick continued.

"This village is free from HELLSING's colonialist rule. We will not allow them to have their hands in our affairs." he said before softening his features and turning to Lapointe. "Their government money would be helpful, but we can't give up our freedom. We've been saving for a while. We've been eating cheaply and cutting portions. We've been building using pallet-wood from supermarkets, even going so far as to reuse the same, rusty nails that held them together. But, our lack of infrastructure is troubling. Specifically, how we transport waste away safely."

Perhaps Ciel had underestimated him. He presented his sales pitch, explaining the problem in detail, even going so far as to praise "Gerlois" for his observations, agreeing that it would prove problematic if they built on unsteady ground. Brodrick didn't push for anything else thus far, even though everyone at that table knew that there would inevitably be more "requests" very soon after this one was carried out. Unfortunately, Mademoiselle Lapointe was a very good-natured woman, and listened to his pleas with much sympathy. Perhaps too much sympathy. It was so much so that she couldn't see that this wouldn't be the end of it. After all, he was only asking for "one, essential thing for the welfare of his village."

"I understand!" the woman declared with a sparkle in her eyes. "That would raise the quality of life exponentially, yes? Well, then, Mister Brodrick, I will have to say-"

She was cut off by a hand on her shoulder. Looking back, she saw her servant standing next to her with a concerned look on his face. _"Let's not be too hasty, Mademoiselle… This will take a large amount of money from your savings. You don't have anything coming in anymore, remember?"_

The servant looked up, recalling that Gerlois could understand him, only to receive a light nod. Relief washed over him, as it seemed that the merchant was reasonable. Renee, however, was a bit disappointed, although she understood. She had to make sure it was a safer investment.

"I would like to see more of your village before I make any kind of definite decision." she informed, carefully folding her hands on the table in front of her. "You understand, yes? This is an awfully big risk for me."

"I understand." Brodrick answered, smiling to mask his disappointment. "You've only just got here! It's probably for the best to not make such an important decision rashly. But, do allow me to formally introduce you to the rest of the village, will you?"

"You may." Renee replied, only to second guess herself when Gerlois crossed his arms and sighed. Too late. Brodrick already stood with his glass and a fork in hand. He hit the side of it, capturing the attention of the hall.

"My brothers and sisters," he began in a loud voice. "It brings me great pleasure to welcome some new faces to the village! Please extend your warmest of welcomes to Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe and company. For they may not be wolves, but they, too, are supernaturals. They are one with nature, having cast aside their human forms. Moreover, they have come a long way to be here, seeking sanctuary from dreaded hunters abroad. Give a howl!"

Renee looked absolutely mortified as the entirety of the hall howled like wolves on her behalf. They were loud and they were rowdy, throwing their heads back and banging fists on tables, rattling the silverware and dishes in front of them. Few didn't, but Lobo and Maven did fail to join in the festivities. Both of them were frightened as to what this may entail. Lobo was to the point that he angrily tied his spoon in a metal knot. The vampiress herself, however, simply wanted to hide, but it was no use, as the chief joined in as well. Her only solace was the apologetic look the merchant gave her.

Afterwards, the chief sat down and threw his head back yet again, this time in laughter. "That surprised you, did it?"

"Regretfully, yes." the woman confessed. "Is this common practise?"

"Yes, there is a nightly howl. We howl so that we can be closer to our true selves and to appreciate what we have been given."

"I see..."

"Shall I show you around after dinner?" questioned the wolfman. "I would love to help you get more acquainted with the farm."

"Perhaps." The poor woman didn't really know what to say, as she didn't really want to say "yes." She knew it was an inevitability, but she had just woken up and was already exhausted. Renee, you see, was rather posh, and the fact that she was on a farm combined with the strange, pagan, ways of these people who wish to be wild animals was somewhat overwhelming to her senses.

"Oh, are you leaving, Gerlois?" Brodrick chimed in, causing the woman to look to where the merchant was sitting, only to feel a wave of distress wash over her as she saw the man leaving her there on her own with Brodrick.

"I was going to get my violin." the redhead answered. "I thought that you would enjoy it if I ended the night with some music, rather than some dull folktale, given that Mademoiselle Lapointe is here."

"Oh, please do!" Brodrick enthusiastically answered, having been struck with the thought that it might impress the woman seated near him to see that the village was "cultured." He turned to the woman before declaring: "Gerlois is an excellent musician! I've never seen anything quite like it."

The woman looked to Mister Gagnon curiously, only to be greeted with a slight smile and a nod. With that, he left, only to return a few minutes later with his case in hand. He prepared his instrument. He prepared his bow. He put everything into place before taking a rather rigid, practiced position. His back was straight and he had a dignified air about him that Renee knew did not suit a mere wandering merchant. Then, he started to play.

Ciel played the same haunting tune that he played when he first arrived there. He had played it many times since, as it was an impressive piece, especially to have memorised. Undoubtedly, it took much training to be able to do. It couldn't have been just any training, however. His notes were too precise. His manners were too proper. He did not relax one bit as he played his song. In an instant, Mademoiselle Lapointe recognised it.

"Bach's Chaccone..." she said aloud, mesmerised by what she was seeing and hearing.

"You know the song, Madam?"

She ignored her host's mistake and uttered a somewhat nervous laugh. "Not really." she answered. "I had a friend who used to practise it."

"In France?" Brodrick questioned. "Was he a vampire as well?"

"No, he wasn't. We did meet in France, but he wasn't French, either."

"Really? What was he?"

"He was English..." She looked back to the merchant and watched him some more. As she did so, her eyes narrowed. "But he was perfectly fluent..."


	25. Bargaining with the Boy in Blue

The feast was winding down as people finished up their meals and began to leave. Some of them stuck around, curiously interrogating some of the vampires of Lapointe's coven in order to satiate their desire to know about them. For most of them, it was the first time any of them met a supernatural- Knowingly, at least. The Mademoiselle herself, however, somehow escaped this fate, using her intimidating status to scare away the masses and staying quick on her feet to avoid Brodrick as she set off in search of Gerlois.

She found him, crouching down off to the side as he carefully placed his violin back in its case. With a grunt, he stood up before lighting the incense stick held between his teeth. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder in a lazy fashion before locking eyes with her.

"Can I help you?"

She felt awkward asking this, but she was determined. Her gaze was alert as she lifted her chin in the air in an effort to maintain her proper, authoritative posture._ "I want you to show me around the village."_ she confidently said in her mother language so no one else would understand. Gerlois, on the other hand, took his time in answering.

_"__Why not Brodrick? He offered to take you." _he answered back.

_"__You don't seem like you will give me a biased opinion of the place. That's why."_

_ "__True."_ Gerlois stated before pausing to think. _"Fine. I'll show you around. I'd prefer it if you didn't tell Brodrick, however, as it would be inconvenient. He would want to send his own people along and I don't need it. Do feel free to bring along whichever of your people you wish to, however. I don't mind."_

_ "Do you not like him?"_

_ "I find him to be… __idealistic…__in ways that are perhaps… not very ideal at all.__"_

_ "__He cannot understand you, yet you still choose your words carefully?" _the woman asked with a small smile.

_ "I would not wish to sway you entirely, Mademoiselle. While I find my own opinions to be just, fair, and precise, your heart and mind are not mine. It is your money, Mademoiselle Lapointe, and ultimately, what you do with it is entirely your choice."_

She liked that idea. She found Mister Gagnon to be most agreeable, although perhaps this was in part because he reminded her of someone else. Silently, he exited the building first, thinking it would be best if no one saw them leave together, lest Brodrick want to interfere. A little while later, Lapointe followed with her servant, Serge, in tow.

Once outside, she could see the merchant standing off into the distance, a ways off from the dining hall. Picking up her dress, she hurried after him, wanting to hear more. He seemed reasonable and to know many things. She hoped that he could tell her more about England and perhaps about how exactly supernaturals like herself get by. Trotting up next to him, she coughed as a whisp of incense smoke struck her in the face.

"My apologies." the man stated. "I'm afraid I must burn it so that I stay hidden from things I don't wish to find me." With that, he began walking and she felt obliged to walk alongside him.

"Like what, pray tell?"

_ "_Werewolves. Their sense of smell is keen, I'm afraid."

"And why is it that you would like to hide from them?"

Gerlois ignored her question, however. Instead, his focus was elsewhere, transfixed on yet another strange sight- that of a man sneaking around amoungst the houses. The figure crawled beneath them or crouched behind them, making sure to be as low as possible so that evidence of what he was doing wouldn't be found so quickly. It was Lobo. In his hand was a pocket knife. Ciel noticed him digging the blade into the wood while glancing at something in his hand.

Direct action. Just as Ciel had hoped for. But he couldn't let Lapointe see.

Distracting Mademoiselle Lapointe from his questionable ally's actions, he pointed at the few interesting sights there were. "Over there is the well where we gather water. It's the only source of water in the village, I'm afraid. A bit inconvenient, I'm afraid… And over there are the fields. They've been tending them, pulling many of the vegetables we used for dinner. I worry that they don't grow back fast enough to be that sustainable, however."

"It's a small town..." the woman observed, failing to mask her disappointment. She had expected something a bit more elaborate. At the moment, it just seemed as though they built houses aimlessly. Most of them were empty and didn't seem like they would ever be lived in. It was like they were building a ghost town. Moreover, what was there to do? How was it supposed to function? She knew that she didn't have the knowledge required to understand the details, but she couldn't really see it.

"Very. It lacks funding." the man nodded. "_And organisation. Personally, I don't think that it's sustainable._ _They're focusing in the wrong places and ignoring problems that will inevitably come up._"

_ "There's no stores. You seem to be the only one doing any kind of trading._" She observed before looking up at him with a concerned expression. "_Where is the economy?"_

"Good question. Brodrick was hoping I would stay, but settled on me training a few locals to be merchants in the meantime. I assume he's thought of that as well and is trying to create one."

The woman watched him very carefully as he walked. Occasionally, he glanced up at the moon and his words made him sound as though he was running away from something. At the very least, he was dancing around it. She didn't like that. It made her nervous. Although she had her servant with her, she didn't know if he could handle Gerlois, as she wasn't even sure as to who or what Gerlois was.

No… That wasn't quite true. She had an idea. She simply wasn't sure of it. If her hunch were correct, however, she knew that Serge wouldn't be able to hold his own against the merchant.

"What is it that you really think about this place?" she asked. "What do you think is wrong with it?"

Pausing, the man looked around to see if anyone could be listening before, reluctantly, giving his answer. "They aren't focused on building a civilisation." he stated, shaking his head. "They're focused on building as many homes to house as many hypothetical people as possible. Why is that? It doesn't make them more stable. It just means that they have housing. What possible use could that be?"

"They're interested in expanding, rather than building?"

"Precisely. I don't know if chief Brodrick is doing it on purpose, or if it's accidental. He may very well believe that he is helping people by ridding them of their humanity. It's concerning, though, that he doesn't warn them of how hard it is. He doesn't tell them so they won't change their mind..."

"Ah..." the woman nodded. "It may not be so hard for werewolves, but it's better people are told before they're taken by surprise and are scared by it. You don't really know what you had as a human until you've lost it." Then, she smiled. "I'm looking forward to trying shade gel! Although, it's been such a long time since I've seen the sun, that I'm worried that it might hurt my eyes..."

"They make sunglasses for that."

"That's true! I should get some." She was surprised to find Gerlois smiling warmly at her as if he understood the feeling in some odd way. "I..." she awkwardly started up again, "I used to have a friend who lived in my townhouse. He was English, too. He really helped me out after I was bitten in exchange. It was scary, but I felt less alone with him, there. He wasn't always the best at having kind words, but he used to always say something like, 'once something is truly lost, you can never hope to get it back again.'"

"Perhaps he was wrong." the merchant replied. "That's not always the case. Sometimes, they do come back- sometimes they come back changed, too, though. Sometimes, things won't ever be as they were before, but one can always change and adapt. Like the sun and the invention of shade gel. I hope you find yourself enjoying the sunshine, Mademoiselle. Although, I must warn you, this is England, so you might not always get a blue sky."

The vampiress smiled and glanced up at the sky, wondering if it will be the same as she remembered it. Perhaps not. Perhaps it too would change, but she was looking forward to it, regardless.

Her smile faltered slightly, as the man looked around suspiciously before opening the barn doors. "In here." he said in a hushed whisper, beckoning the woman and her servant inside. He didn't say anything else, and the two vampires weren't sure if that was more or less suspicious. They looked to one another, Serge silently pleading with his mistress to not press forward, but her curiosity got the better of her. She could tell that this was perhaps dangerous, but she decided to press on, regardless.

Thus, Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe advanced. You must understand, of course, that this woman was one who has crossed the sea in order to get here. She abandoned her home of a century out of fear of death and was left without one until she came to this village. Even that wasn't certain. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not. That said, she felt that what was going to be the thing to cinch it was whatever truth Gerlois decided to unveil to her.

The inside of the barn was pitch black and didn't get any brighter. It smelled like dust and metal. There was heavy machinery in there that didn't seem to be being maintained and a few rusty tools, too. Gerlois was there. He paused, standing in the middle of the barn, waiting for the others to join him. Once they did, they descended into complete and utter darkness as the heavy doors to the building slammed shut from the outside, forcing the woman and her servant to whip their heads around to follow the noise. Renee's heart fell into her stomach as she realised that she may have made a devastating mistake.

"_What was that?!"_ she demanded, her brows furrowed as Serge took an immediate defensive stance between his mistress and the merchant.

"_Whatever it is that you're up to, it will be best if you reconsider it._" he warned. His arm shot inward, reaching inside of his vest to pull out the large hunting knife stashed there, but the merchant did nothing in retaliation. He just stood there, watching the two vampires as they kept their eyes trained on him. Despite the darkness, they could see him, clear as day, but even then, they didn't need night vision to see a single, red eye piercing through the blackness. Then, his other eye opened, revealing a light purple, glowing like a flame.

"It's good to see that you're still alive and well, Renee." Mister Gagnon replied in a voice that was not the one the he had been speaking to them with. It was smoother, less grainy, and deeper in pitch. "Forgive me, I've been nothing but rude to you. First I leave without explanation, and now I've locked you in a barn. I do have an excuse for this, however. I'm afraid it isn't safe to talk out in the open."

The blackness moved and shifted and squirmed, but the vampires could see all of it. They could see how the man's shape became distorted and how it shifted as his body caught fire. The fire did not create light, however. It consumed it. Both vampire's eyes stayed transfixed on the spectacle, with Serge still unsteadily holding his knife in his trembling hand in it's direction as he gently pushed against Renee with his free hand, forcing her to step back. He was afraid that if he moved to suddenly, it would explode out at him, while his mistress was too frightened to remember to move.

Then, just as quickly as the fire started, it began to die down again. The same mismatched, glowing eyes stayed firmly in place, only the red one lost it's glow and hue, changing into an ordinary, yet stunning, deep blue. Gerlois' appearance had completely changed. He was a much younger man, now, strong, and physically fit. The wrinkles on his face had completely vanished, as did the scruffy, red beard, revealing smooth skin. The hair on top of his head was tame and straight, but most notably, it had lost it's firey pigment as well. Instead, it was now an odd shade of bluish black that Mademoiselle Lapointe could recognise anywhere, even if she didn't quite recognise the face.

Things stood out to her. The eyes were hard to miss, as one of them had a dim glow of purple. He had pierced ears and a serious expression, although it was noticeably softer than she remembered. He was taller than he was years ago. Older. Less skinny. Yet he was still wearing the same, odd, clothes that he was before he changed.

"You-" Renee had no idea what to say, but she felt as though she must say something.

"Hello, Renee." Ciel greeted, taking the wooden stick out of his mouth and placing it in his pocket. "Can I still call you that? It's been years..."

_"You're… big?"_ Mentally, the woman cringed at herself, but it was the first thing that popped into her head.

"Yes, I am… It's been… What? A hundred? Ninety- some-odd years? I've done some growing since we last met." the watchdog nodded as the woman's servant looked back at her with a baffled expression.

_"__You know this man, Mademoiselle?"_ Serge questioned, still refusing to lower his weapon.

_"It's fine, he's an old friend." _Renne answered in a hushed tone before pushing past him a ways and stepping toward the other man. "_Somewhat_."

She clasped her hands together in font of her, resting them at her stomach as she stood with her head held high. Her chin was tilted upwards and she had a rather dignified air about her, even if she seemed to be holding back her emotions. There was a pause as she gathered herself, staring intently at the man in front of her.

"You're looking well." she finally noted. "Is this where you've been all this time?"

"No. I returned to England in the forties." the Watchdog shook. "France became too difficult to live in. I wanted to return home." Letting out a breath, he gathered his own courage. "Look, I… I want to apologise for what I did. It wasn't right of me. I was… immature. A child, still. Mentally, I was in a bad place, as well..."

"You could have written."

"I didn't know if you still lived in the same place. Either way… I doubted that you would be very pleased to hear from me."

"I don't know if I would be." Mademoiselle Lapointe replied. "I don't know how I feel about seeing you now. Here, as well, after everything that has happened to me in these last few months. My coven was picked off one by one, and I was forced to flee from my ancestral home- my home! Where I have lived in my entire life for over a century! And now, here you are, of all people. I feel like I should be happy, but I feel like I am being made a fool of."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." the demon stated. He walked away for just a moment before pulling a crate toward the spot where he was standing before so that he could have a seat. "I did not call you here to mock you. You have my sympathies, as well. Losing everything like that is hard. I would know. I have called you here, instead, to warn you of powers that be, as well as extend to you assistance."

Him sitting down unwittingly implored the woman's servant to try and find a place for her to sit as well. All the while, the Phantomhive continued. "In the dining hall, Brodrick and I spoke of a group called 'HELLSING,' yes?"

"The anti-supernatural group?"

"Yes, but also no… HELLSING is more of a supernatural crisis response group. We don't go out of our way to hunt supernatural beings because we find them to be unpleasant."

"We?"

"Yes."

"No, you are with them?"

"Oh, right. Yes, I am. I apologise for not being aware of what has been happening outside of the United Kingdom when it comes to supernatural affairs. On our side of things, we've been cleaning up after a major crisis that hit us in January, although we've been preparing to confront it long before then. It's not really my department. The reason why I'm here is because I'm on a mission. This village isn't one of ours, and unfortunately, those in charge of it are known to us as being more than a bit 'problematic.' We're looking for a peaceful resolution, but both Brodrick and Granger are both known to us, and given that Brodrick seemingly refuses to even hear mention of the name 'HELLSING,' I wonder how on earth negotiations are going to go."

Blankly, the woman stared ahead. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she tried desperately to soak up all of the information that the man just dispensed. Blinking, she rubbed her head and sat down on the seat Serge squired for her.

"I'm sorry..." she said, still rubbing her head. "What? You're part of their orginisation, but… you're a supernatural… and you deal with… what?"

"It's… It's a very long story." Ciel did his very best to recount it. It was long, as he had to stop and sidetrack things so that he could explain certain things, like how HELLSING's supernatural cities were in fact, pleasant places to live in, and that there were rules and regulations with dealing with supernaturals, now. He explained Mister Granger's true nature and that threat, but also explained Brodrick and the faoladh. The Phantomhive was careful to not give away any information that was explicitly confidential, and hoped that she got the gist.

"It's a lot, I know, but this is what I've been doing since the war ended." he said. "I'm sorry, I know this isn't the conversation that you probably wanted to have..."

"No, it's interesting..." Renee replied. Just as she was swept up in Brodrick's vision, she was swept up in Ciel's, only the latter of the two had more detail and seemed to have an actual plan. "And you say those cities… They're hospitable to vampires?"

"Of course. That was part of the reason they were allowed to happen in the first place." the man stated. "If vampires have access to blood packs, most will not go out and attack humans. It's simple fact. After this policy was adopted, vampire attacks dropped dramatically just within the first year. You will be able to find food in either one. What's more, I personally know the head of the department that can get you settled in."

"Sounds tempting…" the woman mused, "But are you just trying to get rid of me again?"

"Somewhat." Ciel replied. "But mostly because I don't know how dangerous this area can get. At first, I thought about giving you one of these talismans that protect against incubi, but after thinking about it, I sort of figured that you would want to get out and get some semblance of normalcy back as quickly as possible."

"I do… But I also don't want to leave you. We still need to catch up. Really catch up- not just talk business… If I leave, that might never happen."

"I see..." That was not the answer that Ciel was hoping for. He was hoping that she would leave the village so that he could continue his work, but now, he had to plan either around or with her. "Then I'm going to have to ask you to not give money to chief Brodrick and to use my talismans. I don't have enough for the entirety of your company, however, so you may need to share rooms until this is over. If you assist me, then I can guarantee that you'll have your pick of any supernatural dwelling available and a comfortable life, unbothered by those who would wish to harm you."

Mademoiselle Lapointe folded her hands in front of her and rested them on her knee. Slowly, she turned her head toward her servant. In a soft, sweet, voice, she addressed him. _"I would like to speak to Ciel privately for a moment, if you please… Go guard the door."_

Serge stared at her for a moment incredulously, baffled as to why she would want to be alone with this strange man. Granted, they knew one another, but it had been ages. The servant had every right and reason to be concerned. Looking up at the demon, he narrowed his eyes, looking for any excuse to deny his mistress her request. But Ciel only shrugged at him. Without reason to stay, Serge was left with no other option but to retreat. He walked almost sideways, making sure he could look back at the pair with only a quick glance before placing a hand on the door and making his exit. Once the door was shut again, the bluenette piped up again.

"He seems like a wonderful servant." he stated, but Renee had no interest in that. Instead, she wordlessly stood and walked toward the demon until she stopped right in front of him, so close that their knees were touching, but Ciel didn't move. He was going to remain steadfast and stonelike until the need to move came. Then, the woman's hands shot out, forcing the other man to react, but he stopped as soon as he knew what she was doing. Instead of being attacked, the man found his cheeks being pinched and the woman pulling them apart to stretch them out. Confusion immediately overtook him.

"What in blazes are you doing?!" he demanded, causing the woman to smile. "Let go of me!"

"It really is you. That's good." Renee laughed before the demon finally swatted her hands away. "I had to make sure. You don't just look different, you sound different, too."

"I assure you, I'm the real thing." Ciel huffed with a nasty look on his face. He may have grown and matured, but he still wasn't fond of other people touching him, especially his face. "I see you're just as invasive as ever."

"You like it."

"I assure you, I most definitely do not."

"Whatever. I will help you, you know. Just tell me what you need me to do and consider it done. I appreciate the help in exchange. I was starting to wonder if I had made a mistake coming here." Folding her arms, the vampiress tilted her head at the Watchdog with a smile. "If I do help, however, I would like you to invite me to your home to catch up."

Ciel's frown deepened at that. He could see the woman's game, here, and it wasn't one that he appreciated. Truthfully, he wasn't certain if her friendship was one that he especially wanted to resume. Moreover, he needed to ask his spouse first before inviting guests. While he technically did not need permission, running the idea by the menace first was the polite and courteous thing to do.

"I'll see what I can do." he said, folding his own arms in front of his chest. "I live with other people, now, so I can't give you a direct answer right now."

"Really?" Renee questioned, arching an eyebrow. "I never expected that… Is your financial situation bad enough to warrant roommates?"

"Hardly. I live with them by choice. I enjoy their company." Ciel answered, standing up again.

"That's… really odd..." the woman muttered. "You really have changed, haven't you?"

"Indeed, I have. The important thing for now, however, is whether or not we have a deal?" Gently, the man extended a hand, offering it to Mademoiselle Lapointe to shake. With a strange look, the woman's eyes flickered from the man's hand to his face before finally taking him up on his offer.

"I will do my very best."

* * *

**A/N: I don't think this is what anyone really expected or wanted. Quite frankly, I'm not really sure what I expect or want. I'm just going with whatever. This isn't a planned arc, so events to come sort of change on a dime. Like, I know what I kinda sorta wanna talk about, so I'm just trying to make the story do that. **

**Hopefully it turns out okay~!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	26. Homefires

An angry eyebrow twitched as the menace held one of his previously white shirts in his hands. Off to the side was a very apologetic Finnian, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck while trying to avoid the demon's eyes. While Sebastian was still out of the house, it somehow needed to keep running. Obviously, the task fell to those who were left. And to multiple Google searches for how to do basic household tasks in addition to not-so-basic or ordinary ones. The task that Finnian had been left in charge of on this day, however, was laundry, but when he pulled the whites from the washing machine, he found them all to be a rather brilliant shade of pink.

A good portion of Jim's work shirts and socks. A good portion of Revy's work shirts and socks. A good portion of Finnian's work shirts and socks. Everything in that overloaded machine was now pink. Reaching down into the machine, Jim dug around until he found the culprit. A red pair of underwear. Whose were they? He didn't recognise them, but he was sure upset at them being there.

"I'm so sorry!" Finnian said for the umpteenth time within the span of two minutes. "Can we maybe… bleach them? Would that get it out?"

Taking a deep breath, Jim let it out again in a sigh as he calmed down again. "No, that might just make them spotty." He also didn't trust Finnian handling bleach like that, but wasn't going to say it. "We just have pink socks and shirts, now. I'll replace them later. Don't worry about it. It's not the end of the world. Just look a little more carefully next time." As he spoke, he started removing the contents from the washer and putting them in the dryer himself. "Why don't you start a load of towels, next?"

"Okay..." Towels weren't as precious, so it was a good compromise. Jim decided he should probably make Revy do laundry next.

With that, he left the laundry room and headed upstairs to the ground floor in order to pop in on his brothers to see how they were getting along with their own tasks. Today, they had to dust, but luckily, they weren't being made to dust every single room in the house. Instead, it was just the rooms that were actually used on a daily basis, save for the master suite. Jim had already tended to his own bedroom to spare his siblings from anything traumatic if they were to get too curious while there. He didn't think they would find anything particularly scandalous, but somehow, it was still in the back of his mind. Lucky them, it was one less place that they would have to tend to.

"How's it going?" he asked, looking at the other two. In response, they looked up at him, still wearing face masks and goggles. It was a lot of ground to cover, so it was a somewhat sensible measure, but it still made the menace snicker. "Going well?"

"Why do you have so many knick-knacks?" Revy grumpily asked while trying to get into the crevices of a decorative lamp. "Not even the kitchyiest of grandmas have this much shit!"

"Most of this was here when I moved in, so don't blame me. Blame Ciel and Sebastian."

"Grandpa, then."

While they were talking, Luka stopped for a moment to wipe off his goggles, using the feather duster on his own face. "I can't see..."

"Well, if you want a break from that, you can wash yourselves off and help me with lunch." the menace offered, which got the attention of the younger Mackens.

"Yes, please!" Luka declared, finally taking off his goggles to find a neat shape around his eyes where the dust hadn't touched him.

"Yeah, you might wanna take a shower, first..." Jim nodded warily with his hands on his hips. "Hurry up and then come down to the kitchen, dust bunnies." He was just about to turn and walk away when he paused abruptly and added: "Oh, and Revy? Finny fucked up a few of your shirts. Don't worry, I'll replace them sometime this week probably."

"What?!" incredulously demanded the revenant, but the demon was already halfway out of the room.

"See you in a few~!"

While his younger siblings ridded themselves of the dust that had caked onto their skin, the menace ventured back downstairs to to kitchen. The room was large and made for a much bigger staff, as this was initially a place where only servants were meant to go- specifically, a kitchen staff that the estate has not had since December fourteenth of the year 1885. Now, anyone and everyone who lived there set foot in this place so long as they were in search of food. Sebastian had left a few recipes down there for Jim to prepare while he and the lord of the estate were away. They were simple enough for the menace to make with some effort, but Sebastian's definition of "simple and easy" was still noticeably different from the menace's. Still, he got to work on the prepwork until one of his siblings showed up. Then, he made Revy take over what remained of those tasks while Jim started preparing what was already ready.

Most of the time, he didn't really had to worry about Revy. The younger man had enough sense to not make any catastrophic mistakes, although he did make a few. He almost immediately cut his finger. Jim felt sort of bad for his compulsion to roll his eyes at it, but he had already braced himself for something to happen. Fortunately, Revy didn't complain much. He complained initially, but quickly moved to the sink to wash the blood off of his hand, knowing that he would regenerate in moments. Then, he carried on what he was doing before without another word.

Luka joined them eventually. Jim didn't let him use knives, as it would be a problem if demon blood got into the food. It was gross if Revy's did, but dangerous if it was Luka's or Jim's. Still, he was put to work and was also strangely quiet. Too quiet. Both of the younger Macken's were deathly quiet and it made the menace uneasy.

"So, how's it going?" Jim asked to the air, but he only got dutiful answers.

"Almost done." Revy replied.

"Does this look right?" Luka questioned. Jim checked and then the silence resumed. Everyone was focused on their tasks to the point where talking seemed taboo. Jim didn't like that. It made him uncomfortable. While he understood the practicality of having other people help him, he also thought it might be a good way to interact with each other and bond. There was a small twinge of disappointment inside of him as this turned out to not be the case.

Really, the two younger men were only trying to help. It was very clear to them that Jim was stressed. Moreover, he was stressed and trying his hardest to handle it gracefully. Whenever one of them accidentally broke something, he took a deep breath and paused before moving to fix it or adding it to the expanding list of things to fix later. Everyone in that house had an understanding that it was a lot for him to be able to do that. If they didn't know, the others made sure they did. This was work that Sebastian normally handled the entirety of, save for a few instances here and there where Jim, of all people, offered to help. Sometimes Sebastian would ask Revy, sure, as Jim requested that he do so in order for the younger Macken to learn how to maintain a home when he's on his own, but that's it. Now Jim was the one in maintaining the order of the place and it was a responsibility that he took very seriously.

"This doesn't look like enough." Revy pointed out as he began plating.

"It's fine. I'm going to do some work after this, so it's plenty." In addition to all of this, Jim had his actual job as well. His constant business was generally a bad sign, but it always happened when Ciel was away. The household assumed that it was a distraction of some sort. This time, however, it was because he was genuinely swamped. Revy and Luka looked up at him in surprise with concerned faces. They knew he didn't need to eat, but surely, he needed a break.

"You've been working a lot." Luka was the first to say. "Aren't you tired?"

"Nope. Not at all." That was a lie and everyone knew it.

"You should sit with us, though! Come on!"

"I can't! Sorry… I need to check my emails for any updates." Cupping the sides of the boy's face, Jim leaned down slightly and pecked the teen on the forehead. "We've reached a critical point and I need to be on top of things."

"If there's no updates, will you come sit with us, then?" questioned Luka, still trying to ease the blonde into seeing things his way. To this, the menace was actually unable to come up with a reason to refuse. So, he pondered it for a moment before finally replying.

"Alright." he said. "If there's nothing there, I'll come back and sit with you." His brother gave him a somewhat wary look. "I mean it! Promise I will!"

"Shake on it, then..." the lad instructed, holding out a hand. Naturally, the menace took it and gave it a firm shake.

"When did you get so into negotiation?"

"When I saw it worked for Ciel."

"Get the hell out of here and go eat!" Jim smiled as he playfully chastised the boy, causing him to laugh as he was pat on the back to get moving faster with his plate of food in hand. The menace shook his head and made eyecontact with Revy briefly as all three of them made their exit. The others went to the dining room and Jim ventured to the office, where he plopped down into his chair with a heavy sigh. He did not feel good about this mission. He didn't feel good about it at all and he only felt progressively worse as it went on.

Ciel wasn't good at this kind of warfare, it seemed. While it was true that it would be faster and easier to just toss a wolfsbane grenade down the well, both of them knew that it could kill the humans there, while it would only irritate the werewolves. Indeed, the way to win at war was to bankrupt the enemy or simply make their supplies unable to reach their troops. In an effort to both avoid this and to help people quickly, the Watchdog had broken his own rules and let people in the know of certain details about what was happening.

In his last update, Jim's husband informed him that one of his so-called "wards" who Brodrick was hoping he would train was sneaking around at night after everyone had went to bed and was carving sigils into some of the houses. That seemed like a good idea, as a fair point. Hopefully, it would starve the incubi and succubi who were in charge and cause them to force their hand. If Lobo was caught, Ciel could always feign ignorance and allow him to take the fall for him.

What Jim was worried about was Mademoiselle Lapointe. It was true that Ciel knew her about a hundred years ago and she was trustworthy then, but was she now? What guarantee did Ciel have that she wouldn't sell him out other than his gut feeling? Jim didn't like that vagueness, especially because it was so unlike his husband. Ciel usually needed concrete evidence that something was a good idea before he went with it. He was untrusting, yet here this woman was, suddenly being incorporated into the mission. Jim was suspicious and tempted to take action himself.

When he looked for updates, it was mostly more of the same. It was daytime, so Lapointe was asleep, but the other two who Ciel informed were still awake. Lobo was tired from staying up so late and Maven was fine. That said, the woman was on the building crew that day, and had hinted to Ciel that she would be adding a few things to the design.

It appeared that both of them were adding sigils to houses in order to spread their effects. The seal was an old one, dating back to a time when this problem was a somewhat common one. "The old days" were a scary place. Jim was glad he didn't live there anymore, but that didn't stop people from feeling the need to use old tricks like these. Major Harland has the same image tattooed on her back, taking up the entire lower section of it. That was the most effective way of doing it, you see.

While other charms require one to peer through something in order to see supernaturals, like the stone used by guards at the gates of Gehenna in order to confirm personal identity in case one is wearing a glamour, the talismans that Ciel gave the two werewolves were more simplistic. They weren't naturally weathered for years upon years by a stream, they were pieces of yew wood with a symbol on them. So long as one was either touching the symbol directly or touching something that was touching it, one would be able to see. That said, the strength of the sigil weakened if it's magic had to pass through multiple objects. That is why it was best if it was placed under a pillow or some such. Thus, Ciel wasn't exactly sure how well Lobo's choice to try and save his fellow villagers would work, but it was good that he was at least trying. Jim blamed none of them for wanting to save as many people as they could, so it was hard to be too angry. The menace was simply annoyed at Lapointe. He didn't know her and didn't think Ciel knew her well enough to include her in the mission.

Jim felt as though he needed to do something. He didn't quite know what, but something had to happen. Tentatively, he began typing up a message to his spouse.

"How much longer do you want to take before we establish contact? I'm thinking it needs to be pretty soon. I'm worried about these new risks and want to get things over with quickly."

He hit send and waited, refreshing the page again and again until he finally got a response. "I'm not in a great spot, so my responses will have to be brief. How aggressive do you think contact will be?" the Watchdog asked in return.

"I don't want it to be at all. I just want to let them know that we know they exist and are onto them. I'm hoping that they're change things up so we know exactly how to proceed."

"I'd like to provoke more doubt in his followers, first."

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know."

"That's not helpful."

That was bad. Ciel could tell that his spouse was cross with him. Maybe he was stressed about the situation in general, but it was clear that he wasn't happy.

"Give me a few more days." Ciel said. "Let me spread a little more doubt and then you can move in. I want a peaceful resolution just as much as you do and I'm doing the best I can. I'm rusty at this."

"What about Lapointe? What are you going to do about her?" the menace questioned, cutting to the chase. "I don't trust her yet. I trust your judgment, but I'm skeptical about this. We don't know where her loyalties lie, she isn't trained, and as far as I know, is a liability. PLEASE tell me something that will make me feel better about this."

Jim was right, from his perspective. Ciel could see that. He could tell that as far as Jim knew, all of that was a valid concern. "She is naive and easy to manipulate." the bluenette replied. "Brodrick doesn't have the charm to sway her, though. She believes that if all of this goes well, we'll go back to being the 'best friends' that she convinced herself we were years ago. She's a city girl who can't be swayed by this 'return to nature' rhetoric. She doesn't even want to be here, now that she's aware that there are better options. To her, 'roughing it' isn't her style. All she wants is to return to the blissful tranquility of life in town with all of the creature comforts she can muster. There's no way that she will settle to build on a place like this when she has another readily available."

"Then why is she still here at all? You offered to get her situated in housing in Gehenna. Why is she there?"

Ciel paused at that. There was no nice way to answer. There was nothing so neatly wrapped that it would satisfy the blonde's line of inquiry. All the Watchdog could do was his best.

"She has romanticised notions of being a heroine. It's like she thinks she's in some young adult novel." That still wasn't enough. Ciel had a question of his own. "I take it that you didn't vote in favour of this idea at the meeting?"

"I didn't, but I was outvoted, so we're stuck with it."

That stung. "I wouldn't have done it if I knew that." Ciel stated. "I didn't know. I thought you would have a 'more the merrier' attitude about it."

"It's alright. We'll just work with it. It's not like there's any other option at the moment. Ordinarily, I would, but this seems a little more delicate. You have Sebastian, sure, but if things turn bad, it'll be hard to keep this clean. It's better to manipulate them into giving us victory than to take it by force- Not just because of the lack of death, but getting everyone situated while keeping future uprising to a minimum will be easier."

Scary! Jim was scary! But somehow, it only made the Watchdog smile. That was his husband, after all. Perhaps it was the fact that they had been apart for a few weeks, but Ciel found his beloved's seriousness and calculatedness appealing. Unfortunately for him, it would be a while longer until they could be together again.

"I have to go. I can't stay here any longer without being missed." the Watchdog stated. "I agree with your judgment, however. I'll do my best to keep it as clean as possible. I'll report back with my progress once I'm alone again."

He hated leaving Jim in suspense like that, but he had already taken too long "looking through his bag for more goods." Gathering his things, he stood up and turned on his heel to leave, all the while internally calculating where everything was currently sitting. According to Sebastian, only two houses had the seal that Lobo had carved into them. In the daytime, however, the butler discreetly witnessed him doodling it on multiple boards in permanent marker while working on the construction crew. It was faster, but possibly less effective? Ciel honestly didn't know. He would have to remember to ask Jim to verify that with the Research Department. Since Lobo was only working on one house that day, however, that only brought the total of houses not affected by the illusions of the incubi and succubi up to five- six if one counted Mademoiselle Lapointe and her servants in their place in the farm house. There were approximately thirty or so houses that Ciel had counted and there was more each day. At this rate, it was too slow. It would take ages for all of the houses to be deemed "safe," and while they were waiting, "Mister Granger" and his fellow fakers were still at large.

The solution was simple. He had a butler close by who was practically perfect in every way. He now had an order for Sebastian once he was able to send another message out. That would definitely set Sir Phantomhive back home at ease a bit.

In order to win at war, one either bankrupts the enemy, or cuts them off from basic supplies- especially basic necessities. Cutting off the supply of bullets is fine, but cutting off food and water? That was truly devastating. This way, there was no hope. There was an even shorter amount of time that one could wait before the enemy was destroyed. That is what Ciel was doing. He was starving them out. True, the werewolves would be unaffected, but they needed Mister Granger. He wasn't just some random higher up, walking around, pretending to be important. He was the one who supposedly owned the farm. Without him, this place could not continue to exist. At the very least, it would weaken the structure long enough for HELLSING to swoop in and "save" everyone. This, combined with the doubt Ciel was careful to instill, Brodrick wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

Problem was, Ciel didn't know that it would work in only a few days. He was playing a long game, here, but perhaps didn't have enough time. His spouse was getting impatient, but then again, he was never really the patient type. Then, there was the matter of Mademoiselle Lapointe. How was Ciel going to utilise her? He felt as though he needed to figure it out before night fell, because then, he would be compelled to see her. If he didn't, she would simply come to him.

Darkness did eventually fall over the village. A shadowy figure crept from house to house, concealed only by the cloak of midnight as he carried out his work, marking each home with the necessary circle before moving onto the next. He moved rapidly, completing his rounds in hardly any time at all. Subsequently, one can only imagine the confusion that the black-collar Lobo felt upon starting his own rounds.

The werewolf didn't know how it happened, but he was glad that it did. Out of everyone in the camp, he was the only one who knew how shocking it was to see an incubus where one wasn't supposed to be. It was especially shocking given the things he recalled happening to him in his dreams. He returned to his own shack for the night and laid down in his bed. Unfortunately for him, his vigilance would make it so that he would lay there for hours, wide awake with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. But he wasn't the only one awake, however. In addition to this, he knew that vampires were around. Up 'til that point, he wasn't sure if that made him feel better, or worse. If they were truly working for Brodrick, it was the latter. Unbeknownst to him, however, that wasn't the case.

Elsewhere in the village, the door to the farmhouse opened and then closed. The vampires were out and about, although very few of them had reason to be. There was no thriving night life in Granger Farms like in other cities, so what purpose was there in leaving the farmhouse? Renee could think of one. She wanted to see Ciel again. More than that, she had to keep the promise she made to him and inspect the grounds. She didn't find much, however. It was like the place was completely dead.

She was inexperienced in her work, however, and did not leave unnoticed. Peering down at her as she left from the upper floor of the house, Brodrick rubbed his chin. The wolfman wondered where the woman was going, but assumed that she was merely exploring, since that is what she said that she wanted to do before she made a decision about whether or not she was going to provide him funding. He wished that she would have taken him up on his offer to escort her, but figured that she didn't want to hear him talk up the town to her. Sending an escort at this point would only startle her, what with her being a young-looking woman walking alone at night and all. Thus, he decided to leave it, for now. He didn't think she would find anything damning, but she could possibly see just how shoddy of a place this was. That wasn't especially appealing to the wolfman.

Walking away from the window, he headed downstairs, where he saw Mister Granger getting ready to go out for the evening. He was fully dressed and ready to go, but was busily staring at the wall that held all of the keys on it. Each one was hanging on a small hook and had a name underneath it. Rubbing his chin deep in thought, the farmer was deep in thought as he pondered his options. It was like he was peering at a menu, which made even Brodrick's stomach turn a bit, despite his complacency.

"Going out?" Brodrick questioned, stopping a good distance away from the incubus, as if he were afraid of being an option as well.

"Yes, just deciding where to go." Granger replied. "What about you? Heading off to bed, soon?"

"Not yet. I have things to think about." stated the faoladh. "I wonder if we've saved enough to put in a down payment on a septic system… Or maybe we can sell something? Some equipment, or some of the crop? There's more than we'll eat..."

"Aren't you supposed to store what isn't eaten for the winter?" Granger questioned, looking over his shoulder at the other man. "You've got no one to sell it, anyway."

"There's a local market in the village. We can sell there. We also have those two merchants that Gerlois has been training. That should be plenty to get started."

"Why not send Gerlois? He's good at it."

"I don't want him to leave the village. He's troublesome while he's here, but out there, he's worse." Brodrick sighed, folding his arms while looking at the floor. "He keeps bringing up those cities run by HELLSING even though I told him to stop. I can't trust him on his own with the others where I can't keep tabs on him."

"Think he's trying to undermine you?"

"Doubt it. As far as I can see, he's an old man stuck in his ways. There's just not a lot you can do about that, as annoying as it is. He doesn't get it. I don't know what kind of experience he has with HELLSING, but is isn't what they're really like."

"We just have to do the best we can with it." Hammond replied. "We can't be hung up on HELLSING forever."

"They took our home away! Our glory! The world was supposed to be a better place for supernaturals… and they ruined it..."

"Just focus on making this patch good." the incubus stated, taking one of the keys off the wall before finally turning around to face the chief directly. "Personally, I don't like Mister Gagnon… He's not right..."

"In what way?" Brodrick asked with a tilt of his head, but the other man didn't answer right away. It was difficult explaining such things to those who weren't of his species after all, but Mister Granger did his best.

"As far as I can tell, he completely lacks desire." he finally informed. "I can't get a reading on what he likes or dislikes at all. It's like there's a wall between us… It drives me nuts..."

"Isn't that a thing people are these days, though? What is it? Asexual?"

"Rubbish." huffed the incubus. "People can have low libidos, but they still like sex. He's not right. He's not right at all and I don't like it."

"Well, I was going to ask that you go outside and make sure that Miss Lapointe doesn't run into him." the chief replied, straightening his back somewhat. "I don't want him filling her head with wrong ideas."

"Yeah, sure, I'll swing by." the other man replied. "It's on my way."

"Thank you. He may be old, but I can't have him going around, being a bad influence as he pleases."

"Right..." Walking toward the door, the incubus stretched out his arm to grab the handle before finally walking through it. "See you later."

Brodrick was never sure how to answer that when Hammond went on these late night excursions. He didn't like that he did it, but needed him around, and knew that the incubus had to eat somehow. While the chief had been intimate with a few succubi, he somehow didn't like the idea of Granger after seeing the form he takes during the day. Awkwardly, he offered the man a wave before the door closed again, pausing, before uttering a sigh. The chief was tired, so to bed he went.

Meanwhile, gravel crunched underneath Mister Granger's feet as he walked through town. In his hand, he held a flashlight to light his way, as unfortunately for him, not every supernatural had the ability to see using only starlight. Occassionally, the sound would change to him walking through grass or on top of dirt, depending on which way he wandered. Despite making his rounds a few times, he still didn't quite know where everything was at night and had nothing to rely upon but a blurry mental map of where everything was in the daytime.

"Have fun." a voice said, causing the man to look up. He hadn't realised how long he had been looking down until he heard it. Squinting, he could make the likeness of a slender figure walking away in the darkness, and shining his light in that direction, he caught a glimpse of a green skirt. Lapointe! Quickly, he followed her, only to find someone else on the way.

The man's torch scanned the ground in order for him to know where he was placing his feet, only for him to catch a glimpse of red hair. Lying on the ground with his hands behind his head as a pillow, there laid Gagnon, the exact person that Brodrick did not want Renee talking to.

Quietly, he made his way over to Gerlois- rather, as quietly as he could, he closed the gap between them. Once he was close enough, Mister Granger spoke. "Good evening." he greeted, forcing the other man to interact with him.

"Evening." Gerlois replied. Beside him was a holder with incense burning and when the wind changed direction, the incubus could smell it strongly. "Nice night, isn't it?"

"It is, but what are you doing?" questioned Granger, getting to the point.

"Looking up at the stars." Gesturing upwards, Gerlois continued. "There's Orion and over there is Ursa Major… You can't see them at all from the city. It's nice to be able to appreciate them every so often."

"I see..." Once again, the incubus couldn't get a reading on the man at all. "They are nice… Is that what you were talking to Lapointe about?"

"Hm? Not really. She just asked me what I was doing, is all. I suppose it is rather strange to see someone laying on the ground at night. I'll probably go to bed in a bit. That is, if I don't nod off right here!"

"Well, have fun, I suppose." Just as the phrase left his mouth, the woman's words made sense to the incubus. Thus, he carried on his way. He would double check to make sure that the merchant was in the same spot on his way back, but for now, the redhead laid motionless where he was found.

That wasn't the only place he was, however. As Mister Granger walked away, the merchant opened both eyes. The blue of his left eye change to match the crimson on his right as he hoped that Mademoiselle Lapointe found Ciel's shack alright.

* * *

**A/N: After all of this time of Jim insisting that he will never be Ciel's housewife, this mission happens...**

**Yeah, honestly, Ciel is probably gonna get an ass-kicking when he gets home. His husband is not thrilled. RIP in piece Ciel u had a good run**

**Also Sebastian... Is going to have to clean up a few messes, probably. But for now, he can just enjoy his star-gazing, I guess!**

**Also also, whenever I see the word or phrase "Homefires," I initially read it as "Homefries." Very different. God, I'm hungry...**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	27. Rough Night

It was a rather tight fit, but somehow, Ciel and Renee managed. The shack that Ciel lived in was only supposed to have a maximum capacity of one person, making things rather cramped, but Ciel was a gentleman and stood up, allowing the woman to sit on the bed. Archaic social conventions and views on how to treat a lady aside, it was more important that the woman seemed unwell. She was pale- pale for a vampire, even, to the point where her eyes began to lose their luster.

Ciel looked down at her, knowing what was happening. With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his head and looked around before confirming it. "When was the last time you've eaten, Renee?"

"Oh… Uhm… Before we left France, I suppose." A nervous chuckle escaped her lips as she offered the demon an awkward smile. Even her gums were starting to turn white. "Three weeks, maybe?"

Dropping his hands at his sides, the bluenette shook his head. "Renee, that's- You need blood. A lot of it. What are you planning on doing?"

"Brodrick mentioned drawing blood from his closest black-collars, but…" she paused. "I think they expect to be bitten!"

"Renne..."

"It's so unsanitary! Putting your mouth on someone and biting them? Especially strangers! I don't know how people can do it..."

"I can understand the 'stranger,' bit..." the bluenette said with a light shrug. "Most vampires stop caring when they're starving. Don't let yourself get to that point, Renee. Or your coven. This is a pretty densely populated area. Most of the population is human, as well. Five vampires going feral will not bode well."

"I'm fine, Ciel. I will be fine." the woman insisted while maintaining a dignified appearance. "I thought the English were all about that- what is it? 'Stiff upper lip' nonsense?"

"Right… And how long, pray tell, is the longest that you have gone without blood?"

"That isn't important." Knowing Renee, it wasn't long, however, so it very much did matter. While she had never bitten anyone before, she was still a vampire and a starving vampire was always a time bomb.

"You can't stay here." the man said, reaching up to rub his forehead. "You'll starve, or hurt someone, or both. I'll arrange for HELLSING to pick you up somewhere down the road-"

"No! I can't go, yet!" the woman declared, shooting up to her feet, only to be struck with a certain bout of wooziness. She put her hands out to catch herself, only for the bluenette to do the same. She fell against him, inadvertently shoving him into the corner of the small room. With her hands on his chest and his on her elbows, Renee looked up at him, taking in his concerned expression before leaning her head against him. Immediately, she could hear his heart racing, causing her to smile, but she couldn't see the colour draining from the poor man's face.

"I promised you I'd stay." she told him. "If I don't, I might not ever see you again. I might have to wait another hundred years before we meet again! I don't know if I'll be able to do it!"

"Look, you can come over to visit any time you like once the mission is over, so don't worry. I've just got my family home back in the forties. I'm not going to be leaving it any time soon, so..."

"Promise me you won't!"

"I won't… Probably..."

"That's not good enough!" the woman declared.

"Renee, keep your voice down." Ciel shushed, pushing her away. He maintained a grip on her shoulders as he crouched down, slightly to talk to her, face to face. "You're being ridiculous! You'll kill yourself! You may kill others! Being near me isn't worth that kind of sacrifice. There is no need for it!"

"It is worth it to me!" the woman said back. Looking closer, the man could see her eyes becoming damp and let go of her as a pang of guilt shot through him.

"Don't be stupid..." he answered, praying internally that she wasn't going to press this further. "It's never worth that sort of risk. The whole point of this operation is to get as many people out alive as possible. That includes you. That includes everyone. I will not allow you to jeopardise the mission for your own whims."

"I can be helpful to you! Really, I can… I know a few things about Brodrick…"

"Oh, really?" With great amounts of skepticism, the man folded his arms. "Like, what, pray tell?"

"He build weapons for his last employer." she told the demon. "While the women would fight, he worked in the shop. When HELLSING came to raid the estate he was working at, a few of the others in the shop decided to pick up a few rejected weapons and fight back. It… It didn't end well for them..."

Truth be told, it wasn't new information to the Watchdog. There were files on both Brodrick and Granger already, filled with whatever snippets of their pasts that they could get their hands on. Since there were people who once knew them both either working at HELLSING or otherwise accessible to the organisation, it was a significant amount and Ciel had access to every bit of it- at least, until he ran out of batteries and charge packs for his mobile. Still, he was impressed that the woman managed to get that much for him. Had it been new information, however, it would have been invaluable. Thus, the Phantomhive had to give her credit.

"Good." he said. This was difficult. "That's useful. Thank you. I haven't seen any stashes of weapons, yet, but if he says anything to indicate otherwise, tell me." He relaxed a bit when the woman finally smiled a bit.

"Really? Can I stay, then?"

"...Sure. You can stay for as long as possible." Ciel paused, pointing at her so that his index finger was almost directly between her eyes. "But, as soon as I think you are either a threat, or that you are in danger, I'm throwing you in the back of a HELLSING van and slamming the door shut."

"That sounds fair..." Nevertheless, Renee still looked disappointed. She had every right to be, as the Watchdog knew she wouldn't last. He was planning on getting her out of there soon. Truth be told, he was also hoping that she would leave his accommodations soon.

Renee was not like Finnian in that Ciel did not know exactly how to feel when he saw her. He didn't know how to receive her, while with Finnian, he was immediately overcome with emotion. He was happy to see his friend again, yet the guilt of leaving his gardener to fend for himself all those years ago wracked him with guilt. The Watchdog felt no such emotion toward Renee, however. There wasn't the attachment of her being a person who knew him as a human. In fact, they met a few decades into his demonity, where his capacity to feel emotion was stunted by his bitterness and desire to keep himself angry.

When they knew each other, he made no move to attach himself to her, only exchanging his knowledge and guidance for lodging on a temporary basis. That was all he told himself it was back then and that was exactly how it felt now. Renee was a nice woman, and all, but he didn't get along with her brand of idealism. It came across as naivety. Despite plunging into darkness, instead of facing it head on, she built up her own walls in order to remain the sheltered girl she was when she was human and he had to admit, it was sort of disappointing to find that she hadn't changed. Granted, it did take himself over a century to improve himself as a person and evolve, so perhaps he had hoped for too much.

"When this is over, I would like to talk to you." she said abruptly. "About our future together. I don't want to be left off to the side again- I have feelings, you know. When you invite me over, I fully intend to speak my mind."

"Very well." he nodded. "Another time." The woman only scoffed in response. All hope that she might leave soon died in an instant as the woman had the audacity to take a dignified seat, firmly planing herself in his space and refusing to accept any hint that the conversation may be over. Instead, she lingered, as did the Watchdog, remaining firmly placed in his corner like he, himself, was afraid of being bitten by her. Sadly, his rigidity was noticed, much to his complete and utter dismay.

"You seem uncomfortable, Ciel." the woman observed. "I do hope that you aren't frightened of me. I highly doubt that you have anything to fear when it comes to fending off vampire attacks in the event that I do try to bite."

"Your vampirism does not bother me in the slightest." That was true, but the woman was also correct. "I've known many and have even had one stay with me temporarily once."

"Like you were with me?"

"Somewhat. Only I put her to work as a maid until she got a different job. She and her wife are now well-respected agents. I find their company to be rather pleasant."

"What is the English word for that?"

"What?"

"Women like that."

"'Lesbians.'"

"Interesting… I didn't think you would be the kind to associate with people like that."

"Renee, I associate with people who drink human blood and you think that is the strange part?"

He had the woman there, but she still rolled her eyes at him. "You've changed."

"I have, but not really in that aspect. Although I found it strange, I didn't really care. Who other people are in relationships with typically isn't any of my business." He folded his arms, wanting the conversation to be over. This was dangerous territory they were wandering into and he needed it to end immediately.

"So what is it, then?" the woman questioned. "Personally, being alone in a room with a man is somewhat new, but I don't dislike it."

"I do." Ciel thoughtlessly blurted out. As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them, panicking slightly upon seeing the surprised expression on Lapointe's face. "It's very cramped in here an I value my personal space."

The demon watched her open her mouth to answer him, only for a scream to wrap against his eardrums. To both his relief and horror, however, he found her to be equally as shocked and confused before they both looked toward the door.

"Go!" Ciel ordered, grabbing Renee and forcing her to her feet before shoving her out through it. She struggled to find her footing and was worried that someone would see her leave "Gerlois'" home, but no one seemed to care, even as people poured out of their homes. She was out before anyone saw her, so she was able to witness the startled, but morbidly curious citizens of the farm peek their heads through their own front doors, soon followed by Ciel, now in the guise of Mister Gagnon. All of them stared off in the direction of the sound before its continuation prompted them to start moving toward it to help.

A woman burst through the doors of one of the houses, her eyes wide with fear as she scrambled to escape the dwelling while shrieking at the top of her lungs. She stumbled, falling to her hands and knees briefly before managing to get to her feet and jogging a bit further as neighbours met her and started asking what was the matter. She held her arms close to her and looked back at the house, terrified that whatever scared her would follow.

"It was a demon!" she screamed. "There's a demon in there! He- He-!" she couldn't say any more. One of the woman's neighbours held her as she sobbed while muttering tittered from the gathering crowd. A few people hesitantly stepped forward, trying to crane their necks to see what was inside. Out of all of them, however, one came running, blasting past them fast enough to mess up their bedhead even further.

Lobo was ready when he heard that scream. He shot out of bed and came running out of his house in his night clothes and bare feet, ready to confront the source of the screaming. Stopping at the door, he ripped it open and looked inside, growling into the dark house. His hair stood on end and he puffed himself up to look bigger as he advanced. Everyone else looked on while Ciel's mind began to race, calculating the different possible outcomes of this. The Watchdog only had mere seconds until Lobo roughly grabbed the perp and threw him out into the open, slowly following after Mister Granger as he hit the dirt.

The older man tried to get up, propping himself on his hands and knees, only to have the air knocked out of him as the fist of an angry werewolf came down on his back. Lobo grabbed him by the back of his neck and pushed him down toward the ground. Mister Granger was so frightened that he froze, save for the shaking of his hands. While he, too, was a supernatural, he was surrounded by a bunch of werewolves, all of which were much stronger and faster than him.

"What the fuck are you doing in her fucking house in the middle of the fucking night?!" Lobo demanded, yelling at Mister Granger in a booming voice. "Huh?! The fuck are you doing?!"

No one was really sure how to react to the display. Mister Granger didn't look like a "demon," so no one was really sure what the woman was talking about, but they could make assumptions about why a woman would running from her home away from a man who was not supposed to be there. The situation was not in Hammond's favour, even as the chief arrived on the scene.

"I wasn't doing anything!" Mister Granger insisted once he wracked his brain enough to think to say it. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his voice somewhat. "This is all a misunderstanding..." he said, despite not actually having an explanation yet.

"Out with it, then! Go on!"

All eyes and ears were trained on Hammond as the crowd looked on in horror, especially Brodrick. The chief's eyes were wide and his blood ran cold. Moments passed as the farmer struggled to come up with a reason for him to be there. No matter how much he struggled and forced himself to think, his mind drew nothing. It was completely blank as the fear of discovery overtook him. He was sweating profusely as his mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to say something- anything! He thought and he thought and the thought, digging his fingernails into the dirt as if trying to dig a hole to hide in.

"I-! I..." This was bad. There was no way in which this didn't look bad, but there was a reason for that. He was up to no good, so there was no truth or half lie accessible to him to explain his being there. I was over. This was it for Mister Granger! He was at the mercy at this angry mob and there was nothing he could do about it.

"That is enough!" called out Brodrick, parting the crowd. The wolfman's presence caused the incubus to look up, hopeful for his salvation. His tormentor, however, couldn't conceal his nasty glare as Brodrick approached. "Let us get to the bottom of this first before any violent action is taken. Your fear and anger is understandable, but we should first give Hammond the benefit of the doubt. It is unfair to ruin someone based on the assumptions of another."

It sounded fair enough, but there was a decent percentage of the crowd that remained unconvinced. Many, however, took this reasoning and refrained from passing judgment- or rather, decided on that they wanted to believe that Hammond's presence in this woman's house was innocuous and not worth being fused over. With that, Brodrick continued, turning to a few of his black collars.

"Set up a bed in the basement." he instructed them. "He's staying down there until I decide what to do with him."

With a nod, the chief's underlings stepped forward and hoisted up a surprised Mister Granger from under his arms. He wanted to protest, but no words came out. There was nothing for him to say. He was screwed and not in the way that he initially had set out for. Now he had to live or die with that fact. He new that his disguise was in effect when he went into that house. He knew that there was no way for his target to see him for what he was, yet she somehow did. The incubus couldn't explain it and neither could Brodrick, only now, the chief had to somehow smooth this over.

His people were frightened and so were Granger's. The incubi and succubi in the village would have to somehow cope with the fact that their food supply is unobtainable unless they got to the bottom of why and removed the obstacle first. Otherwise, there would be no way that they could stay there without blatantly coming out of hiding, and it was bad enough with the vampires. Both of them had to feed on someone else and both of them clashed with Brodrick's preaching about "returning to nature" and being as one should be. He couldn't control the vampires, but he couldn't seem to exploit them, either. Now, he also needed to appease the incubi and succubi, as well.

Uttering a long sigh, he gathered himself, pausing to think of his next move. His first order of business was addressing the crowd. "We will get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can. The situation is being dealt with. Please calmly go back to your homes. There is no need to create an even greater scene tonight." There was a slight murmur from the crowd, but it soon grew thinner, with people starting to wander off.

The woman who's house was broken into was ushered away into a neighbour's home. A few people went into her home to bring her a few things, but she didn't go back that night. She wasn't the only one to sleep alone, either. Others didn't feel very safe either and uncomfortably squeezed themselves into the small homes in groups of two or three. One somehow managed four and lord knows how that happened. Things carried on, however. The night was no longer calm, but it grew quiet once more. Fear hung in the air as people tried to wrap their heads around the idea of Mister Granger breaking into homes, but that was exactly what the Watchdog desired. This was the result he wanted, although pleased with his handiwork, he remained stoic and serious, as if he were not involved. Regardless, he was still approached after the crowd dissipated.

"Fucking bastards." his ward lowly growled, keeping his voice quiet. Lobo's brow was furrowed and his shoulders were hunched as he roughly shoved his hands into his pockets. "What the fuck are they trying to pull? Fucking Brodrick… He should've asked more questions… He's in on it, too, isn't he? He's protecting Granger, I bet!"

"It would appear so." Gerlois replied while stroking his beard. "But, people are more on their guard, which is a good thing. The next step is educating them about the threat." He paused, watching the other man and waited for an answer, but the wolfman remained silent. "What is it?"

"This whole place is fucked..." Lobo sadly stated. "It's corrupt, just like everywhere else… None of us thought anything would happen, but it did, and there's nobody who can help us. We're not like Gehenna or Pyestock. We don't have police who take care of this shit." The man look exhausted. He practically deflated as he let out a very long, slow, sigh. "This was a stupid dream..."

"No, I don't think so." the merchant answered, folding his arms. "You've believed that you are a wolf long before you came here. If that is what makes you happy, then there isn't any harm in pursuing it. People have believed in animalism for thousands of years, so a resurgence of it is nothing particularly strange. Just because Granger farms didn't work, doesn't mean that there isn't a place for you elsewhere. Now, you might not get the same 'commune' experience where you're surrounded exclusively by people like you, but you can live pretty close to the way that you want to, regardless."

Once again, it took time for Lobo to reply. He was thinking. He was thinking hard. Ciel could practically see the cogs turning in the wolfman's brain as Lobo tried to formulate a plan. "Are you going to be alright?" the Watchdog questioned, reaching out to place a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Huh? Oh… Yeah… I was just… Hm..." Lobo stopped again. "Pyestock is the place you were telling me about, right?"

"Right."

"Then… Maybe it's best if… Well… Maybe I should ask around to see if anyone will go with me?" Reaching up, he scratched the back of his head. "Try and get as many people out of here as I can, y'know?"

"If you can do it, it's worth a shot." It took everything in Ciel's power not to smirk. "You remember how to get to Gehenna, yes? There's a bus from there that will take you to Pyestock, but either way, you might need to stay in the halfway house for a while until you can find a place there. That is, unless you go out there and build one yourself." He offered the younger man a wink, prompting Lobo to finally smile a bit.

"I can do that." the wolfman answered, perking up a bit. "I'll try and get people to go!"

"Sounds like a plan. Just be careful, though. You don't want Brodrick catching wind of it and trying to stop you!"

"Don't worry, I'll be out of here way before then! I'm gonna start figuring stuff out… See you tomorrow!"

"Get some sleep!" the merchant called out after the younger man, only to be waved off, leaving both Gerlois and Renee behind.

"Well, he was rude..." the woman huffed, folding her arms. "The least he could have done is introduce himself!"

"It's fine. He's the one I told you about. He has a lot on his mind at the moment. He didn't mean any disrespect, I'm sure." Ciel replied, turning to walk back to his own shack, prompting her to walk alongside him. "None of this is his fault, but he feels as though he has a responsibility to help because he knows. It's useful to our purposes, but not a very healthy mindset, really." Pausing, he let out a sigh as a familiar face flashed through his mind. He tried not to think about Jim, but he kept creeping his way back into the Watchdog's head. "He's proactive, so he'll go pretty far once he's out of here."

"Good for him, I suppose..." Renee still didn't seem quite convinced.

"Social convention changes in dangerous situations. Politeness doesn't mean as much. If you're going to stay here, you should get used to it."

"Fine..." The woman was pouting. Why did she have to be pouting?! What did she want? Did she want everyone to curtsy and give her a "how do you do" despite the fact that people were in imminent danger? It was unreasonable, no matter how Ciel looked at it. That was another of Renee's traits that he did not exactly "miss."

He was going to get through this. All of them were. Somehow. Things were already looking up. Jim was still not satisfied, however, and despite Ciel's wishes for more time, he was already plotting to make his move from back home.

* * *

**A/N: Renee... Please stop... Go home... Go find a home... **

**Lobo and Maven, too. Get the fuck out of there. This place fucking sucks.**

**Things are going downhill, man...**

**I don't really have anything profound to say other than Renee needs to get her priorities in order**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	28. The Great Escape (Part 1)

The sound of hammers pounding in nails could still be heard echoing through the English countryside, but the voices of the workers could no longer be heard loudly. Things were still uneasy at Granger farms, with residents speaking in whispers, causing the waters to ripple even further as tension continued to bubble up to upset the surface of things. Things appeared fine, but also very not fine. No one had heard from either Mister Granger or Chief Brodrick since the night before, which only exacerbated the situation. Trust was starting to crack, although it hadn't crumbled away completely. No, there were people working on that.

Lobo spoke the loudest and most frequently of everyone despite his efforts to match the volume of his neighbours. He had borrowed one of the books from the shop and looked through it, reading up on what they were up against. The think, leather-bound, book depicted many of the supernatural beings that could be found in the supernatural towns of Gehenna and Pyestock, which each entry being illustrated beautifully by an artist in Gehenna. Lobo was certain to become as well-versed in the incubi and succubi as he could with the resources available to him before moving on. Afterwards, he was determined to show the others and point out what the threat was, but first, he had to speak to the young woman whose home was invaded in order to get her to confirm it.

"An incubus?" one of the man's friends questioned, scratching his chin as they sat together, taking a break from building houses for the day. "I guess if werewolves exist, so can they…"

"Did you see them when you were in Gehenna or something?" asked another, prompting Lobo to nod.

"I did. And there's all sorts of other kinds of supernaturals, too! Everything that's in that book I was telling you about is there. You can't miss them. I even met a weretiger! You should've seen her! She was gorgeous! Also a cop, but still."

"Cops would be useful around here. After last night, I'm kinda worried for the future." the first said, crossing his arms. "What if somebody else happens?"

"Brodrick will handle it." the second replied.

"Oh, yeah? How's he handling the one we've got? Lobo saw the damn thing. If we've really got incubuses and succubusses, then we need to do something about it."

"Wolves don't have cops. Wolves take care of their own."

"Wolves don't put up with bullshit, either. How can I embrace nature if I'm staying awake all night wondering if I'm gonna hear another scream, huh?"

"Can the pack really protect one another if we're not even sure if the alpha is looking out for us?" Lobo proposed further. "Listen, if we go to Pyestock, we can build our own houses and have our own proper like, religion. We'll be with other supernaturals and can get as close as we can to living authentically."

"From the sounds of it, though, their society is a bit… more than we want." the first werewolf replied. "I like the protection, but I just want to be a wolf. That's all."

"Even wolves have their own societies. That's just what happens when you live with others." Lobo continued. "I still think it's a good idea and that's what I plan on doing. I'll take whoever wants to go with me. This place is gonna fall to shit soon and I don't wanna be around when it does."

"Wait, why? What's going to happen?"

"Think about it. The chief is trying to cut a deal with those vampires, right? But why would vampires wanna stay here? There's nothing here for them. More importantly, there's no food, so what are they gonna eat?" He paused, waiting for the others to answer. "Go on, it's not rhetorical. What will they eat?" The gears started turning in the others' heads and a look of realisation crossed their faces.

"...Us?"

"Exactly. Werewolves can regenerate, right? So we'll live, even if they feed on us, but personally, I don't like the idea of being livestock." the merchant-in-training stated.

"Well, what about outside? They could feed on humans on the outside."

"Yeah, and then instead of being helped by HELLSING, we'll piss them off and they'll come wipe us off the map. This place is doomed. You can stay here if you want, but I'm not gonna stick around." With that, Lobo stood, preparing to head back to work, prompting the others to think of their reply. After a bit of a pause, the first one said:

"Let me think about it a little… I want to make sure things are really that sketchy, first."

"Me too." spoke the second. "I'm not saying that it doesn't make sense, but… I dunno. It seems kinda risky."

"It's not risky. It's a straight-forward process. All we really gotta do is show up." insisted their rebel friend. "I've been to Gehenna. I know how this works. If Gehenna is real and better than I thought it was going to be, Pyestock should be about the same. There's little risk and all of the reward! Think about it. Really think about it."

His words echoed in their minds as he left them to dwell on the matter, but from there, things simply spread. Word that there was a place called "Pyestock" spread, as did Lobo's perfectly accurate predictions as to what was bound to happen. Some people believed it, some people were skeptical. Regardless, the seeds of doubt had been planted and before long, another nail was hammered into the coffin: Lobo managed to show the woman who was attacked the book and she confirmed his suspicions.

Incubi and succubi were also in the village. Surely, she was imagining it, however. Surely, she just couldn't see properly. There was no way that Mister Granger was an incubus. There was no way that Brodrick had known. Surely.

But what about the vampires? What was his plan with them? What was with the smaller portions at lunch and dinner? Why was breakfast no longer a thing? Why did Brodrick seem to keep eating well? Why wasn't Gerlois permitted to sell books? The merchant informed his customers he had them, but told them that he was not permitted to sell them, so people knew that Brodrick didn't like Gerlois sharing knowledge about the outside supernatural world. Why did Brodrick care? Why were things like this? The doubt didn't come from any one event, but rather, several. The citizens were eccentric and believed in something that many outsiders would find "odd," but they weren't morons. They could see these things happening, but brushed them off, initially.

"That's the same kind of look." the woman said, sitting with the book in her lap with the page on incubi and succubi open. "He had the same purple skin and horns. It looked like Mister Granger, but… Yeah… Like that..."

"I'm sorry this happened to you..." Lobo apologised as if it were his fault. "I'm planning on getting out of here, soon. You should come, if you don't feel safe here anymore. I'm going to go live in Pyestock and build a house there. It won't be the same kind of commune and there will be other kinds of supernaturals, but it's safer and easier to live."

The woman paused for a while to think, shutting the book. Slowly, she handed it back to the man and said exactly what he didn't want to hear: "I'll think about it." That's what everyone was saying. Lobo was tired of it. He wanted things to change right then and there, but that wasn't happening. People still weren't completely convinced that things were that bad, but whether they could see it or not, things were growing progressively more grim.

Down in the farmhouse's basement, Mister Granger scowled. His brow was wrinkled and his fists were clenched as he sat on the edge of the bed put down there for him. Because of the vampires, he couldn't be allowed upstairs. After all, Lapointe saw the commotion last night. It would be bad if she saw him wandering around freely. The thought to disguise himself crossed his mind. He could change his appearance and pretend that Granger ran away, but that would leave the farm suspiciously without a farmer and attract the attention of humans. In addition, it would be strange if he "showed up" in town without any luggage. Furthermore, he had no idea how he got caught. He didn't know how he was seen. Until he did, there wasn't any way that either he or his fellow incubi and succubi could sustain themselves in this village.

Damn it all! The basement smelled damp and it was hard to see. There were bugs and god knows what else crawling around there, too. They were his only company along with the cobwebs. Just how long was Brodrick planning on keeping him down there while he figured out a plan of appeasement? It could be days. It could be weeks. Surely, it wouldn't take years or anything of the sort… would it?

On second thought, perhaps making a great escape would be for the best. He only wanted to live easily, is all. Hunting is hard and it made sense to keep a supply of livestock, instead. This village was his crop, but now, it's ruined. A total loss. Perhaps it was time to call it quits instead of enduring on the hope that maybe everyone will get over it. Brodrick can just find some other chump to take his place. It was unfortunate, but the incubus found it difficult to care.

Standing up, he examined his surroundings. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but there still wasn't much there for him to see. Just some some old holiday decorations and random boxes of junk. From where he was, he could see the stairs, but didn't know if he could get through the front door. He didn't think Brodrick actually locked that door, but he wasn't determined to try that hard. Instead, he felt that his best option was his only source of light: the window toward the top of the wall that peeked over the dirt the room was situated underneath. Thus, Hammond got to work.

His footsteps echoed in the quiet room and the sound of the box dragging as he pushed it toward the window was deafening. It seemed like the entire farm was alerted by his presence by it, so he stopped for a moment and listened. In his mind, he mapped out the floorplan of the house and listened for the creaking of floorboards in relation to it. Nothing. He was safe.

The man's clothes sagged and drooped as he changed his shape. He was much smaller, much thinner, with a different shape. He hated it, but he figured that a bunch of folks who know nothing about incubi and succubi wouldn't be looking for a woman even if they realised he escaped. Once he was a good distance from the farm, he'd just change back.

Stepping on top of the box, he struggled to maintain his balance as it sagged with his weight. He needed to work fast. Urgently, he grabbed onto the lock and forced it open, swinging his body weight backwards to pull the window open, nearly falling on his rear. His hands shot forward to catch him and once he was stable, he began to climb, grunting and gritting his teeth as he somehow managed to crawl outside on his hands, elbows, and stomach, staining what remained of his clothes in the process.

With his new frame, he sadly lost his trousers, but that was alright. Hiding around the back of the house, he adjusted his now very long and very baggy shirt to resemble a dress. That didn't fix the huge stains that blemished the garment, but Mister Granger worked with what he had.

After he looked at least somewhat "ordinary," he started walking, trying to keep his cool as he made his way right down the main path of the village so that he didn't appear out of place. Naturally, he got a few curious glances, but it was only because nobody could tell who he was. It was unusual to see strangers in the village, but he was on his way out, so he wasn't really worth batting an eyelash about.

Then, he smelled a faint waft of incense. Just as he was passing the merchant stand, Granger turned his head to see Gerlois staring back at him. The redhead did nothing, however, only offering the succubus a smile. It didn't register why at the time, but somehow, the sight made Hammond walk faster. The merchant, however, just let him go and instead leaned over to address his underlings.

"I think that you may want to leave as soon as you can." he said to them, knowing what was about to happen.

"Why?" Maven questioned while Lobo continued to look a Gerlois with an arched eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"Possibly. With everything that's happened lately, I have a hunch that this isn't the end of it. The sooner you leave, the simpler things will be. Tonight would be ideal, but if that isn't doable, then just… soon."

There was a pause. Both werewolves weren't quite sure as to how to take that. "Is it bad?" Lobo questioned.

"Hopefully not, but it's possible. People aren't trusting. The chief is in a pinch, too. He's probably going to do some snooping and find those marks. I don't want them traced back to you. It's time to start wandering."

"What about you? Once we go, what are you going to do? You could always come with us..."

"I'll go wherever my journey takes me. Besides, somebody's got to guide everyone toward sense and reason, right?" Gerlois offered the pair a smile. "I'll be fine. Trust me. Just worry about what kind of houses you're going to build in Pyestock, alright?"

"I'll see what I can do." Lobo nodded, taking his fellow lycanthrope by surprise.

"It's my car we're taking, you know that, right?" the woman asked. "You should probably consult me about that first?"

"Well, are you cool with it?"

"I need to pack my stuff." Maven replied with a nod. "I wanna see some of the stuff in Gerlois' books and get out of this place. Brodrick is starting to weird me out."

"How so?"

"He told me to get rid of the books and forget what was in them! That's shady as hell. Let's get out of here."

But theirs wasn't the only escape plan underway. While the two werewolves were talking, Gerlois excused himself momentarily to deal with a matter of great importance. By this point, Granger was already part of the way down the road and the distance between himself and the farm was growing with each passing moment.

He walked in his bare feet as his shoes no longer fit him in this form. He walked on the gravel road with cuts forming on his soles. A trail of blood droplets followed him as he ventured further and further away, all the while formulating a plan as to what he was going to do next. He supposed he could walk until he found a house and waited until he could break in and steal some supplies before seeing where it all could take him. He needed actual clothes with great immediacy and some money wouldn't hurt him by any means. As time went on, however, he wondered just how far that would be as he started to get very nervous when the fields turned to forest.

Not everyone has sixth sense, per se, but everyone, however, has some form of intuition that warns them when they are being watched. Granger was no different. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His nerves were suddenly screaming at him to keep moving, but he found it hard not to freeze and listen. He kept walking. He walked faster and faster, wincing at the pain in his feet, but knowing that he mustn't be caught by whatever it was out there.

There was a rustling in the bushes off to the side of the road, causing his brisk walk to turn into a bloody run. Even if he somehow managed to get away, whatever it was back there would have been able to track him with the blood staining the dirt and gravel behind him. He ran and ran, panting and wimpering as he heard footsteps at his back. They grew louder and faster as he increased his speed, coming closer and closer as sweat began to coat the poor former farmer's skin and run down into his eyes, stinging them with salt and hindering his ability to see. Then, his adventure ended when his foot came down on a particularly sharp rock, stabbing him, and forcing him to the ground. His palms, elbows, and knees were torn on the road's hard surface as the crunching footsteps were right on top of him, now, but from behind and in front. Hammond didn't dare look back, but somehow managed to look up. There, he recognised two rough-looking women from his time at the Lexington estate.

"Faoladh?" It was an observation, but his confusion at the sight turned it into a question as he wondered why they were there. Initially, he thought that they were there to join Brodrick, their fellow faoladh, but horror struck him when he saw the red and black coat of arms on their uniforms. "HELLSING!"

Quickly, he tried to get back on his feet, but there was no need for that. The two women reached down and picked him up, turning him around holding him underneath his arms. The gears in his head continued to turn as it slowly began to sink in that the jig was up.

"'A succubus wearing a plaid, mens' button up as a dress...'" recited the voice of a rather handsome, fair-haired man with a cat-like face as he stared at his phone. Looking up, he smiled at Granger. "You know, at first I thought he was going mental for sending me that, but here you are! I take it that you're 'Hammond Granger', then? Or would you rather I call you 'Parker Lexington,' hm?"

Lexington ceased his squirming as his body went numb upon his stomach dropping. That name! No one was supposed to know that name! He didn't detest it, no, but he was determined to live an easy life as Hammond Granger, the owner of the farm! Granted, that plan went bust, but he couldn't figure out how the absolute menace in front of him knew it!

"How do you know about that?" he immediately questioned, no longer able to think from the shock and fatigue.

"Oh, please..." Jim rolled his eyes. "Did you think you lot could run an operation as conspicuously as you do without HELLSING knowing and launching an investigation? Parker Lexington, it is my pleasure to inform you that you are now under arrest for supernatural crimes against England. Ladies, if you would be so kind to put him in one of the trucks, please?"

Without a word, the group began walking with the women leading the way with Lexington still in their grasp. He tried to wiggle his way out, but was too tired and too hurt to do so. They turned and made their way through the woods before eventually coming to a clearing with a small encampment set up. There were armoured and regular cars along with more women, including the fearsome Claire Whelan, the current leader of the faoladh- their alpha, if you will.

"Get a first aid kit and patch her up." the demon ordered. "Succubi can't regenerate."

Upon further inspection, flowers in pots and planted into the soil surrounded them, masking their scent when the wind blew in the direction of the farm. Lexington had no idea how long they could have been there, but had other things on his mind. It stung even worse as his wounds were cleaned and dressed, but he supposed he should be thankful, although he wasn't sure to what extent.

"What are you going to do?" Lexington asked. "Are you kill everyone?"

"No, that's not really in the plan, but I guess if things somehow get like, catastrophically fucked up." the demon answered. "Don't worry, I don't intend to hurt anybody. All I'm gonna do is put the final nail in the coffin and break the spell you guys have over those people."

"It's a bit too late, now… They already know what I am..."

"Oh, I know. I mean I'm going to reveal just to what extent you and your friends have lied, and just how sustainable your town is. After that, I'm going to give everyone the resources they need to get settled somewhere else."

"Like you did when you stormed the Lexington estate? Yeah, see how good that worked out, huh, _colonizer?_"

"Yeah, it kinda sucks how people couldn't take the resources we gave them because they didn't like how the other supernaturals shamed them for their shitty behaviour, huh, _rapist?_ Cry me a fucking river. I can swim, arsehole."

While Jim could see Parker's perspective to some extent, he had a very difficult time sympathising with his captive. Ideally, supernaturals should be able to found their own towns and cities, but unfortunately, with the world as it is, that was an impossibility. Granger Farms, for example, was far too close to humans and far too out in the open to be safe. Moreover, it lacked the leadership and infrastructure to get up off the ground. It was doomed to fail from the start, and it was Jim's job to make sure that everyone got to safety before things got any worse.

Turning away from his captive, Jim pulled out his cellphone and began typing. He penned a very quick message before pressing "send" and whisking it away down the road to the farm. It was addressed to both Gerlois', Ciel and Sebastian.

"Got him. In custody. We'll be there in the morning."

Whatever happened during the night was out of his hands. If Ciel was going to get Lobo, Maven, and whoever else was escaping out of there, it had to be that night, or else they were going to get their first ever brush with the HELLSING organisation. Everyone hoped for a peaceful outcome, but truly, it was in the hands of the village leader to decide what happened next.


	29. The Great Escape (Part 2)

Night fell over the farm, making an excellent shroud for a few of the citizens to make their quiet escape. True that there was no explicit rule that prevented them from leaving, but they didn't want Brodrick to know, just in case. Armed with nothing but a small flashlight, one person squatted on the roof of Maven's and another citizen's car and lit the way while others loaded the trunks with only the bare minimum of what they needed so that it would all fit. It was a complicated puzzle, but somehow, the group managed to make it work after having someone bounce up and down on the door to force it shut.

Getting everyone into both vehicles was another matter. They weren't particularly large cars, after all. Both were intended to house only five people each, but a few folks had to sit in laps and dangle out of open windows. It was unpleasant, but they were determined to make it to the promised land of supernaturals.

There was room, so they snuck a few of the vampires out, too, but Renee stubbornly stayed behind. More than that, she hung back while her servants helped everyone else get situated, staring intently at Gerlois as he reassured everyone that things were going to be alright.

"Is that everyone?" inquired the merchant.

"Everyone we can fit. I feel bad, not taking the rest of the vampires, though..." Lobo confessed. "If we had a truck, they could sit in the back..."

"No use worrying about it, now, I'm afraid. They'll escape later. Don't worry about it. You have the directions on how to get there in case you forget, right?"

"Yeah. Right here." Lobo said, holding up a folded piece of paper as he looked out the window at the other man. "See you on the other side?"

"Save travels to the both of you." Gerlois smiled with a light wave, but just as quickly as his expression appeared, it disappeared. The lycanthrope stared at him with confusion on his face as he watched the merchant frown.

"Start the engine." the redhead ordered. The urgency in his voice startled the others, but spurred them to take action. "Now!"

Maven cranked the key to the ignition and it hesitated for a moment before giving up. She grit her teeth and tried again, twisting the key harder this time, only to get a similar result. She tried again and again as the group inside of the car grew more panicked with each loud puttering sound that the engine made. The entire village was surely awake by now, but before any of the general crowd could get there, a large figure with a lupine head emerged from the darkness, accompanied by a few black collars along with Dom, a large blue collar with an aggressive streak. He smiled haughtily with his shoulders hunched and his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"See! I knew they would be here!" he gleefully pointed out, sticking his tongue out with a goofy grin on his face as Brodrick scratched his head with his large claws.

"Good work." the chieftan praised before turning to face the others. "Looks like we know who is getting their black collar next. I know that you won't waste it, like this lot has..."

"Dom, you stupid cunt! Why'd you tell this knobhead?!" Lobo shouted, trying to stick his head out of the window before having his face promply shoved back in as Gerlois leaned down to address the driver.

"What's going on?!" the merchant demanded.

"There's too much weight!" Maven declared. "I need a few people to get out and push to get it going!"

"Nobody's getting out. Leave it to me." the Watchdog declared, standing upright and addressing the other car.

"Go on! They'll catch up! You have directions!" he shouted, prompting the other vehicle to roar to life. The headlights flashed, forcing Brodrick and his compatriots to cover their eyes before it peeled off. It threw up dirt and rocks, a thick cloud of dust and burnt rubber behind them as they shot their way down the driveway. Now, all that was left was getting Maven and Lobo's car going.

"Hey!" barked the chieftain, stepping forward. A few from his own group took off running after the car, leaving Brodrick to bare his fangs. "Get them! Don't let them get away!"

A gunshot rang out, quickly followed by another one. The air had been sucked from the lungs of all of the onlookers while the process of understanding what just happened. A small, black flame flickered on the barrel of the pistol in Gerlois' hand before finally going out, leaving nothing but smoke coming out of the tip. The two werewolves that were chasing the getaway car fell to the ground, both curling into a ball and clutching at one of their legs with a horrible moan.

"Gerlois..." Maven said breathlessly, shattering the silence, but the man didn't answer her. Instead, he turned his head in order to address Brodrick.

"You are going to let these cars go." he said. His voice did not waiver and carried itself with a chilling authority. Then, even more shockingly, the gun burst into flames before disappearing again. "It it not my intention to harm anyone, but you cannot force people to stay here."

"Is that right?" Brodrick questioned with a faux-understanding nod. "Is that why you helped Hammond escape, too?"

"I didn't. I was at my post for the entire day. My lord, please let them leave. Things are dire and you shouldn't show such a face to the Mademoiselle."

The wolfman's eyes flickered to the vampiress for a moment before fixating on the demon once more. "Is she in on this as well?"

"It's night time. Vampires tend to run around at night. She wanted to see what the commotion was." Ciel lied. He needed her to be out of danger before he could push Maven's car and give it a running start. Unfortunately for him, werewolves were notoriously quick and it would take no effort on Brodrick's part to close the gap between them and get to her. "Let her go back inside, Brodrick. She isn't a threat to you."

"With the lies you've undoubtedly filled her head with? I doubt that." the chief coldly stated while taking a step closer. "You keep talking and talking about how terrible this place is and how good the sham cities that HELLSING creates are. They are nothing but a bunch of pathetic, murdering, colonizers! All we want is to return to ancient times, when we were all beasts and all equal. We want a free world- a pure world, free from the restrictive clutches of humanity. Why can't you understand that? It's going to be a lot of hard work, but there is no need for all of this. Please… Everyone… Get out of the car and go back to your homes. You belong here. Your brothers and sisters need you..."

"You have no right to inhibit them from leaving."

"Why would they leave? Where else can they go? It's either here, or with HELLSING. While Mister Granger clearly committed some wrongs, that is a thing of the past. I will do my due diligence to protect my people better in the future."

"As will I." nodded the Watchdog. Quietly, he grabbed Renee by the arm, squeezing it tightly as his eye stayed trained on Brodrick. "Renee… You really ought to find better friends… Better than me." he stated, much to the woman's confusion.

"What do you me-e-EAN?!" The poor vampiress was swiftly yanked to the side with one hand of the Watchdog's while the other one threw open one of the back doors of Maven's car. It was packed. There was nowhere else to sit. It was a profoundly undignified situation from the get-go for Mademoiselle Lapointe's tastes, but it very quickly became much worse. Ciel threw her in the back of the car so that she was laying on her stomach across the laps of those already sitting on top of other people. It was uncomfortable, it was unpleasant, and it was humiliating, but before she could voice her objections, she heard the door being locked and slammed shut behind her. She couldn't see anything that wasn't through the window opposite of the bluenette, but could feel the car begin to move.

"Stop him!" Brodrick boomed at the top of his lungs, provoking his underlings to move, but Ciel did not move from his position.

It was a bizarre sight, seeing a man who appeared as old as Gerlois Gagnon did, pushing a small car packed to the brim with people and all of their belongings. His feet dug into the earth and his hands left deep imprints in the metal as it warped around them. "Maven!" he shouted, only to hear the engine roar to life moments later.

The wheels began to rapidly turn, throwing up dirt and gravel that struck the poor flunkies preparing to pounce on Ciel from behind. The Watchdog felt the car moving away from him and the weight lifting. Soon, the group was peeling away. Ciel could see it vanishing into the darkness, but couldn't see what was happening inside.

Renee could finally see him as the car turned to the side her window was on and she screamed at him, tears welling in her eyes as she watched her old friend be tackled to the ground. She dug her fingernails into the door, pressing her forehead against the glass as the mood in the car drastically shifted. The small rush of joy that came from blasting down the road and being free to go wherever they needed to be died as soon as the realisation of what must have happened sunk in.

Everyone was quiet, save for Renee, who was kicking and screaming up a storm, angry that she had been betrayed. There was a limit to how much the others were able to hold their silence, however. There was a limit to how long that they were going to put up with Renee's wailing. She was not alone in her grief in that car. Stomachs sank and colour drained from faces as shock overtook the passengers until finally, grief and anger came to fill that void.

"Shut the fuck up!" Lobo shouted, brows furrowed and eyes aflame. The man was completely powerless as he sat in that cramped vehicle, unable to do anything to help Gerlois. His muscles tensed and untensed, burning to leap into action and make a daring rescue of the merchant- but he couldn't. There was no way that he could make it out alive. That helplessness, that sadness for what was lost, and despair at the unfairness of it all made him angry. The vampiress' wailing grated on the last nerve he had and he lashed out, eager to do something with that pent up energy.

"He's gone, okay! Brodrick's got him! There's nothing we can do! It's over!" he yelled. "So you can stop your fucking crying! Crazy bitch..."

He huffed and looked around the person sitting in his lap so that he could stare through the windshield at the dirt road ahead of them. He could only see as far as the headlights could reach, but beyond that was complete darkness. Closing his eyes, he cringed as he heard quiet sobbing coming from the driver's seat. Soft, strangled whimpering and sniffling grated against his ears, but in a much different way. Guilt overcame him and he was internally screaming at himself to not look over there, but he had to. He had to check on Maven.

The woman did her very best to hold it in as to not disturb the others, but the weight of the situation was too much to bear. Gerlois was gone. He was either captured, or more likely, dead, from the look of things. The group got out of the village, certainly, but doubt sunk in as to whether or not it was worth the cost. It was worth it to Gerlois, it seemed, or else he wouldn't have risked it- although maybe they just wanted to tell themselves that in order to make themselves feel better. They didn't know. None of them knew what to do. None of them knew what to say. They just kept moving.

Lobo stared blankly into the uninterrupted blackness, expecting it to go on forever as time itself seemed distorted. The car shook as it traveled over uneven gravel at speeds that were perhaps not the safest when there was at last a disturbance. Lobo squinted as he peered into the darkness as he spotted a dim light off in the distance. It was small at first, but grew larger and larger before it separated into two lights.

"Maven?" the man finally said, trying to capture the woman's attention. "Maven?" The lights grew larger and brighter with each passing moment before it was finally close enough to cast shadows at the passengers' backs and enlighten their faces.

"MAVEN!" Lobo's arm shot out and gripped the steeting wheel before giving it a swift yank. The car jolted to the side, veering off the road and jostling around the passengers, bumping their heads on the roof and bruising their elbows and foreheads as they crashed into a ditch. The large truck that nearly hit them passed them by while the one directly behind it slowed to a stop.

* * *

**A/N: School has begun... Once more, I must return to prison... The first day was today, and it didn't feel like it? It felt like the last day. Not taking any summer classes this time around's got be fucked up, y'all...**

**Pray 4 me.**

**The next chapter isn't really shaping up that well, I don't think... I either need to cut it, or lengthen it, because the falling action goes on way too long... I'll figure it out. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows~?**

**Fare thee well, Renee... She'll be back to annoy us later, but damn, Pooch, that was cold of u...**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	30. After The Wreck

Heads were spinning as the group sat there in more silence, trying to wrap their head around the further mayhem that had befallen them. Maven let out a cough as she tried to shove the inflated airbag out of her face so that she could breathe while other's shifted in the car and assessed the damages to their own persons. Metal groaned before cool air hit the side of the woman's face. She could hear voices outside as she turned her head and strained to see what was going on.

At her side was a man in a black military uniform with a black and red patch on his chest. There were other patches on his arms, including a shield with a mean-looking dog with horns on it amoung other things. His dark brown eyes peered into the vehicle, briefly meeting the gaze of the woman before he straightened his back and looked back toward the road.

"Werewolves!" he called out. "There's a few vampires, too!"

"Good work, Danlaw!" another voice called back. "That must be them. Everyone get them out and get them and their belongings in the truck."

Maven blinked and the man was crouched down next to her again, reaching across her to try and undo her seatbelt. Unfortunately for him, this was when she regained some of her senses. Poor agent Danlaw found himself being shoved away and having to wrestle with her in order to get her out of the seat.

"What are you doing?!" the woman understandably demanded. "Get off me! Help! Someone!"

"Hey, hey! Calm down! I'm trying to help you!" the man said, straining against her hands. "We were told that some werewolves and vampires were seeking sanctuary from the village up ahead!"

"You ran us off the road!"

"You tried to ram our truck!"

"Solomon, go get the stuff out of the back of the car, alright?" the voice from before called out as the door on the opposite side of the car was opened. Maven's head frantically looked around as she saw a few of her friends unconscious and being dragged out and the man from before leaving. Soon, a rough looking woman non-nonchalantly sauntered up to her side of the car and crouched down to slip into her view. "We apologise for the state of your vehicle, we really do. We would have just let you go on by yourself, but we heard gunshots and thought the worst, so we all came running. Luckily, you're werewolves, so you'll be fine. I'm Lance Corporal O'Horahan of the HELLSING Organisation. We're going to look you over to make your you're alright and escort you to Phantom House, where you'll stay a few nights until you have a place set up in one of the supernatural cities. We're werewolves, like you, so you don't need to be scared."

"How… How did you know we were coming?" Maven cautiously questioned.

"I'm afraid that's classified information that I cannot supply you with at this time, Miss." the rough-looking woman replied. "I'm gonna level with you: at this point, I don't really have any proof or reason why you should trust us, but you're also out of options. It'll be easier if you unbuckle yourself and let me help you out of your vehicle. You're not being arrested, so I'm not gonna cuff you, or anything. Just go along with it and you'll all be fine, I promise."

That wasn't a very inspiring speech, but Maven did see that the woman had a point, as much as she really didn't want to. Although she trusted Gerlois, being confronted with the real thing was incredibly frightening. She knew that they had weapons. She could see them! She also knew that they used them to kill supernaturals. But what option did she have? Slowly, Maven moved to unbuckle her seatbelt and took the other woman's hand to be helped out of the car.

Upon stepping out, Maven could see the large armoured truck that her friends were being escorted into and became immediately more frightened. She could see that they were putting the group's belongings in the back with them, so the agents seemed to trust them enough to let them keep them. The agents didn't even search their bags before loading them up.

Sitting down in the back of the truck, she noticed that a few guards didn't get back on. Lobo seemed to notice as well as he climbed in. He looked back, watching as a team of agents disappeared into the woods.

"What about them?" he asked the nearest faoladh. Was it just him, or did all of them seem to be scary-looking women? "Where are they going?"

"They're going to join the other truck that went on ahead in case they need backup." the scary woman replied. "I wouldn't worry about it. Our intel indicates that the farm has no weapons that would seriously injure any of our own, so it probably won't get too wild. The mission is just to get people out and arrest Brodrick, so that's what we're aiming for."

"How do you know about Brodrick?" the man asked, growing increasingly nervous, the more the agents seemed to know about them.

"We have a whole department dedicated to gathering intel. It's not that hard."

With that, the woman climbed aboard after Lobo and the others and pulled the door shut. Shortly after, they began moving, trying to find a place to turn around so they could make the trek back to base in silence. Lobo, Maven, and Renee were all on their way to safety with varying levels of happiness about it. While Lobo and Maven were happy to be able to explore the supernatural world and build a new life somewhere safer, they were devastated that their mentor seemed to meet a grim fate. They didn't know if he was captured or dead. Somehow, however, they figured that that would be the last time that they would ever see the merchant. Meanwhile, Renee was certain that Ciel was alive, but angry and saddened by the fact that he had sent her away. He promised to let her help, but clearly, that was a lie.

In reality, the bluenette was glad that the group was gone because that meant that Brodrick could not get to them. While there were plenty of villagers left behind, none of them who knew anything were still there. They were safe and the other villagers were safe, so long as Brodrick was reasonable, but the Watchdog was somewhat on the fence on how that would go.

Brodrick's men had tackled and manhandled the older "Gerlois," tackling him into the dirt and beating him until they could bind him. Ciel just let them, as a few belts and some rope wasn't enough to keep him at bay, but they didn't know that. They thought that they had captured him, but in reality, he was stalling to come up with his next course of action.

Things were looking bad. All of the noise drew people from their houses, afraid that someone else was being attacked. Naturally, they were filled with confusion and dread as they saw a bruised and bound Gerlois sitting on the ground, surrounded by Brodrick and his most trusted black collars. They panted as they weren't used to having to wrestle demons. They weren't trained or anything. They just had supernatural strength; that didn't mean that they were particularly strong, however. The crowd looked on at this bizarre display while Brodrick clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to figure out his own next course of action. He and the Watchdog had reached a bit of an impasse.

"What are you going to do?" Ciel bluntly asked. "Imprison me? Kill me? You could always try burning me at the stake, if you like..."

"Quiet!" Brodrick growled, his face warping into a frustrated snarl. "Have you lost your mind?! Why on earth would you do that?!"

"Do what? Help people who no longer wish to stay here leave? I wasn't aware that that was against the rules..." The wolfman's frown deepened at that while Gerlois gave him a pressing look. "Why does that upset you? Why is that worth beating an old man for?"

"You have a weapon." Quickly, Brodrick tried to change the focus.

"A weapon that I wouldn't have to have used if you hadn't tried to keep people here against their will. If you try to inflict violence on other people, you should expect to be met with the same. That is just common sense, my lord. I understand that Mister Granger's escape from confinement has you worried, but you must remember that the rest of your citizens are not your prisoners."

Snarling briefly, Brodrick's face relaxed as he came up with a plan. "How do I know that you weren't responsible for freeing him? How do any of us know that he wasn't in one of those cars and that you are the one who helped him?"

"Because the cars contain the same markings that break the illusions of the incubi and succubi that are hidden in the houses. I brought the magic into the village and am the reason why any of you are aware of the threat to begin with. If it hadn't been for me, Granger would have never been caught. He would have continued his prowl while tricking his prey into thinking it was only a dream."

There were a few gasps that sounded from the crowd as a few citizens connected the same dots that Lobo had. Murmuring ensued along with stifled crying and attempts to not panic- but panic did grip them- panic that Brodrick could not control. The chief looked around at his subjects, watching them comfort those who were breaking down at the discovery. Truth rippled through the crowd and wore away at Brodrick's hold on the situation. He turned his head once more, staring down at the merchant with eyes wide with fury and horror.

"What are you?" he demanded. "How are you doing this?" But the redhead only smiled at him.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Watchdog answered with his own inquiry. "I am nothing more than one hell of a merchant."

"You liar!" Brodrick accused, pointing a finger at the other man. "Merchants don't carry guns! Merchants can't move cars! Merchants don't know spells!"

"How do you know that supernatural ones don't?"

The wolfman sputtered, knowing that he didn't have a leg to stand on, there. A lightbulb went off in his head moments later, spurring him into action. "Search his house!" he ordered his underlings. "Especially his bag! He may have more weapons! Be careful, though…" Then, he turned his attention back to his captive. "Those were anti-freak bullets, weren't they?"

"Oh? Are you familiar with them?"

"Yes… When I served under his majesty, King Abhartach, and my lord, Lord Whelan! While our women fought bravely against HELLSING forces, we men supplied them with weapons. We made them!" Brodrick narrowed his eyes. "The only other people who have them are HELLSING! You! I knew your presence was out of the ordinary! You are a HELLSING spy!"

"Well… You're half right… Other people have them, too, though- basically every anti-freak or supernatural management group on the planet, from BIGFOOT in America and Iscariot wherever there's a high presence of Catholics…" Gerlois smiled. "But what did you do to get on HELLSING's radar, my lord? Why are you so frightened if you've done nothing that they would want you for?"

"They hate supernaturals! They want nothing more than to wipe us all out!" Turning, Brodrick faced the baffled crowd of his subjects so that he may better preach to them. "The HELLSING organisation is full of murderers who kill everything that they do not understand! They come into the homes of supernaturals and kill our friends and families! They shoot children and slaughter the elderly! They will stop at nothing until we are all gone! That is why we must return to our natural selves! We must be one with nature because nature created us and loves us! Humans have rejected nature and cower in their precious cities, but that isn't enough… No, they must take over what is ours!"

"Your group tried to overthrow the monarchy and expose the secret of supernaturals to the entire world in the process, which would have sparked massive panic and chaos worldwide." Gerlois retorted. "HELLSING stopped you. Many of your people did survive and that is why you are still here. Because it is easier to keep both supernaturals and humans safe if supernaturals are given what they need to survive. That is why HELLSING created the cities of Gehenna and Pyestock! You, Tagdh Brodrick, were not content with this! That is why you set out here with the incubus Parker Lexington of the Lexington clan, who could not cope with the beliefs of his own kind and their rules of engagement. The culture shock sent you both here, to Granger farms, where you found shelter."

Although his hands were bound, the Watchdog slowly maneuvered himself to his feet and stood up with his head held high. "You stayed here with the real Hammond Granger, the owner of the farm. He was an elderly widower and had a son who died before him, so he was happy to have the company. That is the family depicted in the photographs on the walls of your new house! The real Mister Granger is the father in those pictures, not the son! Whether it was from natural causes or foul play, he died and he is buried in the same space that you dug all of those holes for the composting toilets, under one of the houses, there! Afterwards, you had Lexington pose as him and took control of the farm before inviting humans who are interested in lycanthropy here for you to rule over. Whether you had good intentions and wanted to create a utopia for supernaturals while Abhartach failed, what you did was wrong!"

The merchant's face became grim as his brows furrowed with a look of pure disgust at the chief. "In other words, 'my lord,'" he continued, "You are the one who allowed an incubus to consume his fill using your own people as livestock for him to rape in their sleep! In fact, you let in multiple incubi and succubi, who are always hiding close by. Most of your most trusted black-collars aren't werewolves. They're incubi and succubi and that's why they're so slow and weak! That is why those cars were able to escape pursuit! You, Chief Tagdh Brodrick, sold out your own people for your own gain! Furthermore, you attempted to keep them here against their will when they wanted to leave this place for good! That is not the mark of a very good leader, I'm afraid. Although I'm pretty sure that the previous head of the Whelan clan would have approved! Luckily, his daughter is much better at it..."

"What?!" the other man demanded, taking a step back. "I-! You're lying!"

"Am I? Then prove it. Find the paperwork. Find any photo ID belonging to Granger. Find anything and bring it right here, right now for everyone to see. Prove that your black-collars aren't fake werewolves by placing the sigils on them. Prove me wrong." Gerlois challenged, much to Brodrick's concern. "Prove it or I will." With that, the merchant struggled against his restraints, furrowing his brow and gritting his teeth as his open eye glowed bright red.

"Restrain him!"

It was too late. The belt had snapped and the ropes did too. The demon was now free and took advantage of his captors advancing by reaching into his tunic with one hand and reaching out to grab one of his opponents with the other. He caught them completely by surprise by latching onto the black-collar's throat, gripping it tightly so that he couldn't escape. Then, pulling a slip of paper from his tunic, he revealed the emblem that exposed incubi and succubi to the crowd before slapping it onto his own captive's forehead. Right before the citizens' eyes, the black-collar's skin changed hue, becoming a light purple while he sprouted horns and a tail against his will.

The audience screamed. People held onto and shielded one another while some shielded themselves. They were horrified by what they were seeing as it confirmed everything that the merchant was saying as true. This place was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to be a paradise for like-minded people. It was supposed to be sacred, only for it to be a farce. Brodrick had violated the sanctimoniousness of this place. He had violated their trust. He offered them up to be used while going on and on about how others would take advantage of their trust to hurt them. Such hypocrisy was shocking, especially since the chief was otherwise kind. How could someone so generous and accepting do this? It was a lot. It was too much.

But there was still more to come. The merchant turned his head as the crunching of gravel could be heard off in the distance. As it drew nearer, others heard it too. The sound was coming from the end of the driveway and it grew louder and more intense with time. Whispers erupted from the crowd and heartrates began to rise as the headlights of the large, armoured truck came into view. It drove up to the group quickly, prompting Brodrick and his black-collars to take a defensive stance. A few people in the crowd did the same, protecting their own, while others stayed back and observed, waiting to see if they would ultimately have to run. The truck came to a halt, pausing for just a moment until the heavy back doors swung open.

"Gao go gae!" A thunder of women's voices came from the truck as their owners stomped their foot once on the vehicle floor.

"Abair arís é!" A woman's voice shouted. The sound only impounded the sense of dread the villagers felt and stirred some odd emotions in Brodrick's heart, as he had heard the cry many times while the women were training back when his kinsmen were working under Abhartach.

"Gao go gae!"

"Abair arís é!"

"Gao go gae!"

"Faoladh! Advance!"

Neatly, two orderly lines of rough-looking women and a few men wearing black uniforms with HELLSING patches on them filed out of the truck and surrounded the group. All of them were armed to the teeth, with guns in hand and bladed weapons on their hips. They didn't aim anything at anyone yet, but rather, secured the area. That didn't keep people from being afraid, however. It was understandable. No one blamed them for it. They were only innocent bystanders, really.

Brodrick rapidly moved his head and eyes, trying to get a grasp on the situation. He wanted there to be some way out, but knew that it was useless. What could he do against them? Nothing. That's what. He was doomed. The village was doomed. That wasn't the end of it, however. The last two people that exited the vehicle were the most important of their group. One was a very handsome man with pale blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a rather serious expression on his cat-like face. He walked as though he meant business, along with the woman who accompanied him. She was the one who made Brodrick's eyes widen.

She wore a uniform similar to the others with her, but was armed with nothing but a sword, a knife, and a pistol on her hip. Her uniform had a small cape attached to her back, reaching to only the middle of it, and her golden hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail with her bangs sticking out. A black eyepatch covered her left eye as a scar trickled down from it on her cheek. She didn't use to have it, but Brodrick still recognised her immediately and took a knee, bowing his head. A few of the other faoladh in his group followed suit, causing yet another ripple effect amoungst the crowd, despite them not knowing who she was or what was happening.

"My lady!" the village chief declared. "I am pleased to see you again!"

"I wish I could say the same." the woman spat with a nasty look on her face. "I find myself completely and utterly disgusted by your actions. Not only have you violated supernatural law, you have dragged the faoladh name through the mud in a futile and selfish attempt to obtain some semblance of glory. You have knowingly and intentionally infected humans with lycanthropy, only to steal their earnings, keep them prisoner, and offer them up as sacrifice to your 'business partners.' You should be ashamed!"

"I've already explained the evidence, Second Lieutenant. They know what they've done." the merchant finally chimed in before offering a nod to the blonde man. "What is your plan, Sir Phantomhive? Are you going to take them in?"

"We'll hold the accused in the truck and occupy the area until we can get more trucks in to transport everyone out safely." Jim informed, folding his arms across his chest with a rather stern look. "You've made a bit of a mess of things, haven't you?"

"Unintentionally, I assure you..." the Watchdog bashfully replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You look ridiculous..." the menace couldn't help but say aloud before shaking his head. Then, he turned his attention to Brodrick. "Tagdh Brodrick, you are hereby under arrest by order of HELLSING for crimes against both human and supernatural kind. You are accused of intentionally and knowingly infecting human beings with lycanthropy, in addition to sex crimes in the vein of prostitution and trafficking. You and your immediate consorts will be transported back to headquarters for further questioning. Second Lieutenant Whelan, restrain them."

The woman and a few of her own stepped forward and forced the accused into some rather intimidating-looking restraints designed to secure supernatural beings. It was a bit tricky for some, but Brodrick, much to everyone's surprise, cooperated just fine. He knew it was over. He knew that there was no point in fighting it. There was no point in embarrassing the true leader of his people further with his foolishness, so he allowed himself to be escorted into the back of the armoured car without further incident. Admittedly, it was a tad anticlimactic, but what was he supposed to do? Go out in a blaze of glory? He was already humiliated in front of both his citizens and the leader of the faoladh in England. Fighting now would only lead to further disgrace.

Peering into the back of the truck as he was escorted in, he locked eyes with an incubus, already bound with a talisman around his neck to keep him clearly visible. Worse, the poor man was naked as well, with nothing but a shirt tied around his waist and nethers as some sort of makeshift diaper for modesty. Needless to say, Parker looked mortified. Silently, Brodrick sat down on the seat across from him while two HELLSING agents sat beside both of them. Both convicts uttered a long, tired, sigh. There was solace in the knowledge that they couldn't be humiliated any further, or rather, that HELLSING was merciful and didn't seem to be interested in punishing them in that way. They didn't know what sort of punishment awaited them, however, and neither did the crowd outside of the truck.

Naturally, people were scared as the agents began setting up a camp in the middle of everything. Just as Jim had said, they were planning on occupying until everyone was taken care of, setting up tents and the like. He was also the one to explain the process to the crowd and what was going to happen to them. They would either be sent to Phantom House temporarily or kept here, depending both on whether or not they were human and on how many people the house could take. From there, if they were at Phantom House, they would have a meeting with someone from the Supernatural Relations department that was stationed there in order to get them permanent housing or a plot to built their own home on top of. Alternatively, if they stayed where they were, the orginisation was going to cart in some of the appropriate personnel the following day and set up a booth of sorts in the dining hall. After they were situated, they would take the bus to their new homes.

The humans were trickier, as there wasn't much reason to keep them, as cruel as it sounded. Some of these people had completely uprooted their lives in order to be at Granger Farms, only for it to turn out to be a sham. Jim sympathised with that, obviously, but he was up front and informed them that the department was still mulling over what exactly to do with them. That was space that could be used for supernaturals, after all. With the limited area, if was important to consider the pros and cons of giving a space to humans who were not either HELLSING personnel, or caretakers or dependents of supernaturals. It would add genetic diversity, certainly, but the problem persisted. Everyone there was worried about what would happen to them if they were just turned loose, but that wasn't something that could be dealt with right then and there.

Still, the menace remained calm, dictating orders to his team while strategisng with Claire. He was dutiful and his sureness and transparency kept everyone at ease. The blonde answered whatever questions that the villagers had to the best of his ability and maintained a personable air. He was approachable. He always was charming and he had the situation under control, despite how messy it all was. While it took a while for the agents to calm everyone down enough to the point that they felt comfortable returning to their lodgings. Jim allowed them to group up in order to feel safe, knowing that even in the unlikely event that things turn violent, he and his forces would be able to dispatch them with minimal effort.

In a matter of moments, HELLSING had full control of the farm through their firepower, Jim's ability to build trust, and the breaking of trust between the residents and their leader. While things didn't exactly go according to plan, this portion of the mission was successful, but the baronet was still not pleased. He was dutiful, charming, and carried himself with authority. Needless to say, his husband was practically gleeful at seeing him, despite having to suppress himself and keep up the charade for a little while longer. Ciel did, however, notice that Jim was not talking to him. The blonde wasn't even looking in his direction. After all this time, the menace was giving Ciel the cold shoulder! The realisation made the Watchdog shudder, slightly. Now it was his turn to be a tad fearful. The mission was a success, but it would appear that the menace was still upset with him. Luckily, it seemed as though Ciel had time to brace himself for the scolding that he would eventually receive.

* * *

**A/N: I really love the faoladh... Danlaw's on their team under Claire, now, so that's what he's been up to. The "Gao go gae" thing isn't gaelic, by the way. It isn't supposed to be, so at least half of that chant isn't like, questionable. It's from a copper arm band from when Rome occupied England that was given out to soldiers who were native, but working for Rome. "Gao go gae" is written on the armband and is a wolf howl in... Old English, I think? **

**It sounded cool, so we're going with it. **

**I'm going with it.**

**You're putting up with it.**

**Also with the mediocre ending aksldjgoaiga I'm sorry that there was no big showdown. It didn't seem realistic or strategic to whoop Brodrick's ass. It would be bad to piss off this town full of werewolves. Just look at Brodrick, himself! **

**I wanted to just play around, this arc. I don't have anything action packed in particular planned afterwards, so we'll see where we go. I'm probably gonna write like 800 chapters, so we've got time to beat people up. If you're devastated by this and are in desperate need of some senseless violence, do tell me! **

**Or just watch Baki or something idk**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	31. Normal and New Normal

Naturally, people were scared as the agents began setting up a camp in the middle of everything. Just as Jim had said, they were planning on occupying until everyone was taken care of, setting up tents and the like. He was also the one to explain the process to the crowd and what was going to happen to them. They would either be sent to Phantom House temporarily or kept here, depending both on whether or not they were human and on how many people the house could take. From there, if they were at Phantom House, they would have a meeting with someone from the Supernatural Relations department that was stationed there in order to get them permanent housing or a plot to built their own home on top of. Alternatively, if they stayed where they were, the orginisation was going to cart in some of the appropriate personnel the following day and set up a booth of sorts in the dining hall. After they were situated, they would take the bus to their new homes.

The humans were trickier, as there wasn't much reason to keep them, as cruel as it sounded. Some of these people had completely uprooted their lives in order to be at Granger Farms, only for it to turn out to be a sham. Jim sympathised with that, obviously, but he was up front and informed them that the department was still mulling over what exactly to do with them. That was space that could be used for supernaturals, after all. With the limited area, if was important to consider the pros and cons of giving a space to humans who were not either HELLSING personnel, or caretakers or dependents of supernaturals. It would add genetic diversity, certainly, but the problem persisted. Everyone there was worried about what would happen to them if they were just turned loose, but that wasn't something that could be dealt with right then and there.

Still, the menace remained calm, dictating orders to his team while strategisng with Claire. He was dutiful and his sureness and transparency kept everyone at ease. The blonde answered whatever questions that the villagers had to the best of his ability and maintained a personable air. He was approachable. He always was charming and he had the situation under control, despite how messy it all was. While it took a while for the agents to calm everyone down enough to the point that they felt comfortable returning to their lodgings. Jim allowed them to group up in order to feel safe, knowing that even in the unlikely event that things turn violent, he and his forces would be able to dispatch them with minimal effort.

In a matter of moments, HELLSING had full control of the farm through their firepower, Jim's ability to build trust, and the breaking of trust between the residents and their leader. While things didn't exactly go according to plan, this portion of the mission was successful, but the baronet was still not pleased. He was dutiful, charming, and carried himself with authority. Needless to say, his husband was practically gleeful at seeing him, despite having to suppress himself and keep up the charade for a little while longer. Ciel did, however, notice that Jim was not talking to him. The blonde wasn't even looking in his direction. After all this time, the menace was giving Ciel the cold shoulder! The realisation made the Watchdog shudder, slightly. Now it was his turn to be a tad fearful. The mission was a success, but it would appear that the menace was still upset with him. Luckily, it seemed as though Ciel had time to brace himself for the scolding that he would eventually receive.

It was like that for almost the entire wrapping up of the investigation on the Phantomhive's end. Jim frustratedly helped the Supernatural Relations Department staff register people so that they could be sent on their way. The humans were denied access to the supernatural cities unless they had children or a partner that was themselves supernatural. Jim felt badly for them, given some of their circumstances, but there was very little that he could do to help them. He did his very best, too, staying far longer than he needed to in order to find resources for them. He even arranged transport, but most of them chose to stay behind on the farm, in spite of lack of funds and the fact that the fate of the land was uncertain, but Jim didn't challenge them. He couldn't talk. Their squatting didn't bother him and as long as they weren't bothering anyone, he didn't see the harm of it. As far as he could tell, they were just going to continue taking care of the land, and he didn't feel inclined to stop them. Naturally, an eye would be kept on them, but as soon as the blonde's obligations were done with, he passed the baton to the appropriate department and headed home.

Dead on his feet, he closed his eyes in the back of the car, too tired and too annoyed to talk. Still, even if he was annoyed with his spouse and although the Watchdog reeked of incense and god knows what else, Jim was glad to have his husband back. He leaned his head on Ciel's shoulder and began to doze, finding comfort in the other man's presence just as Ciel found comfort in Jim's. They stayed like this in complete silence, all the way home.

They exited the vehicle, they entered the house- Ciel sighed, relieved to be home again- and then they ascended the stairs and trekked to the master suite. The Watchdog didn't sit down right away. He was worried that if he did, he wouldn't be able to get back up again. Instead, he finally broke the silent contract that they would not speak with an announcement.

"I'm going to take a bath." he said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He was warning his spouse, as he had not had a proper, civilised-person wash for weeks at this point and was prone to take long baths on ordinary occassions. If Jim wanted to use the bathroom for anything, he needed to do it right then and there.

"Let me get my shampoo and stuff." the blonde replied. "I'll take a shower in one of the guest rooms."

"Alright." Calmly standing aside, he allowed his husband to do what he said he would, opting to grab some underwear to bring with him, instead. Soon, the other demon emerged.

"All yours."

"Thank you, darling."

"Mm-hm."

Simple. Efficient. Somewhat awkward? It felt awkward and natural at the same time, somehow. The two of them felt like they should be talking about what had just transpired, but both of them wanted things to return to normal somewhat, first. Thus, they spoke normally, although briefly. Both of them assumed that they would talk about whatever it was that was bothering them after everyone was settled back in.

Jim was the first to return to master suite, fully dressed in shorts and a t-shirt as he plopped down on one of the couches and flicked on the TV. He sat there for a long time, waiting on his husband to return as well, but Ciel was determined to take a long bath to the extent that Jim was starting to wonder if he drowned. The Watchdog had sunk into the water with a long, pleasurable, groan and soaked until the water started to turn cold. It was the temperature that eventually forced him to get up. The sound of the bathroom door finally opening made his husband chuckle in the other room, but when Ciel didn't walk into the front room where Jim was, the menace started to wonder what he was doing.

Turning his head, the blonde peered into the dark bedroom, illuminated only by the light from the front and dressing room pouring in. Jim waited a little while longer. Still nothing. Thus, with a grunt, he stood up, stretching his arms and flexing the muscles in his back before making his way to the dressing room. With a hand up his shirt, scratching himself, he walked through the bedroom in his bare feet and stuck his head through the dressing room door.

"You alright in here?" he asked, only for a light blush to accompany the mischievous grin that formed on his face.

"Huh?" the Watchdog suddenly replied. His face was red and Jim could catch the tail end of him doing something before he firmly planted his hands at his sides and stiffened his posture. Whatever case he was trying to make that he wasn't doing anything was not helped by the fact that his towel was hanging around his neck while he was standing in front of a mirror in just his underwear. "O-oh! I'm fine. Just fine."

Jim nodded sagely, seemingly accepting the other man's explanation, but his grin didn't fade as he stepped out into the open. "It's okay to check yourself out a bit, you know."

"I-!" With a sigh, Ciel relaxed his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "It's nice to finally have my body back. I was stuck as 'Gerlois' for weeks, so it's good to finally look like myself."

"I figured, it's just funny to see you doing it. I like seeing you all confident and feeling yourself."

"You're handsome, too. I'm glad to see you. I mean, I was glad to see you when you showed up again, but… You know what I mean..."

"Kinda. I saw you staring at me."

"Well, you were dashing when you took control of the situation. I hadn't seen you for a while, too, so I… Well… I was a little starstruck."

"I noticed. Kinda looked like a creepy old man, though."

"I- Uh, sorry… I was actually trying not to be conspicuous..."

"Well, you sucked at it." Jim laughed as the other man rolled his eyes again and walked toward him, making his way out of the room. "You weren't Gerlois the whole time, though. You were Ciel around Renee, weren't you?"

"I suppose, but that's only marginally better. I suppose now, she's going to be cross with me..."

"You yeeted her into a car, so that's not surprising. I'm guessing that you're going to invite her over to apologise?"

"If it's alright with you..."

"Go ahead. I'll make myself scarce so you can talk."

"You aren't bothered by that?"

"No? Should I be?"

"I mean, I did mention how she is around me..."

"Yeah, but that's her problem, not yours. If you're worried I might think you're up to some scandalous, extra-marital activities, I don't. I've got faith in you."

"So… you aren't mad about that?" the bluenette questioned, raising an eyebrow. He opened the door for Jim to speak his mind about what's bothering him. "And you're not bothered about 'creepy, old man Gerlois' staring at you?"

"No and no. I am a little annoyed about Renee and the others, though." the blonde bluntly stated. "I'm just not annoyed about that. I'm also not as annoyed as I was. After having some time to chill out, it's not that big of a deal..."

"That's good..."

"But I still have to write a report on the situation, so I am still annoyed." Jim clarified before the bluenette could get completely at ease. "What you did was, quite frankly, stupid and irresponsible, and I have no idea why you did that. I mean, I kind of get it, but it's not really like you, so… what was that about?"

"Well..." Ciel paused, reaching up to scratch the back of his head while turning around so that he could sit on the edge of the bed. It was difficult to explain, because he was a bit surprised at his actions as well. "I fully intended to go in there with my usual playbook and just strictly do everything covertly. I was going to follow the rules: Gain trust, get intel, wait for HELLSING to move in, and done. Things started out fine like that. I noticed the little things they were doing toward the villagers- taking the money they made from work, feeding them smaller portions- that sort of thing. It's awful, but not…" He sighed. "It's not… something that- that needed dealt with right away. I'm not sure how to explain that line..."

Nodding, the menace slowly sat down next to him. "I get you."

Satisfied with that, the Watchdog continued. "That changed, though. Once I figured out what the incubi and succubi were doing, that crossed the line. I used to be able to prioritise things… more rationally- more coldly. Ordinarily, I would look at things completely objectively in terms of the mission. This time, however, I… I just couldn't. I had to think of a way to protect them sooner than the mission called for. From there, it just fell apart. I know that. I… I could have made things run smoother if I stayed objective and focused on the mission. I know that and as one of the coordinators of the operation, you have every right to be disappointed in my mishandling of the situation."

Jim listened very intently to his husband's explanation. While Ciel had given him plenty of explanation behind his choices while the operation was underway, Jim hadn't heard it framed like this. In his communications, Ciel spoke rationally, trying to explain a line of reasoning that did not rely on objective truths in a cold, callous way. It wasn't cold and callous, however. It was based on a more subjective form of logic and reason: Morality. Ciel went against his typical script because his conscience demanded it. While his mission wasn't directly to do this, the point of the operation was to get the villagers placed in a safer environment. Ciel reached that objective.

"I understand. You thought that it was better to get them to safety as quickly as possible, rather than just get the information on them." Jim replied. "Honestly, I would probably have done the same."

"I know you would have. I'm just not very good at it." Ciel confessed. "I was trying to think of what you would do, but… You're a lot more clever than I am. Honestly, they sent the wrong Phantomhive out there."

"Maybe!" the menace laughed. His mood had improved with that explanation, as his frustration was beginning to fade. "I don't understand getting Renee in on it, though. You didn't seem to have any confidence in her to begin with, so… what was that about?"

"I needed her to not give her money to Brodrick and knew that she wouldn't have listened to some random, old, weird-looking, man. She's too image-focused to do that. If she gave her money to Brodrick, it would have strengthened him and his hold on the village, but on a more personal note, I would have felt bad if she had wasted what little remains of her fortune on some idiot and I didn't say anything."

"Pfft-! So basically, what you're saying is… you fucked up the mission because you've gotten too nice?"

While the thought had crossed Ciel's mind before, hearing it spoken so bluntly out loud made his frown deepen. Resting his elbows on his knees, the Watchdog hung his head and uttered a long, tired, sigh. "Sometimes, I think I'm getting too old for this… I'm losing my touch, it seems. I used to be a scourge on the battlefields, and now I'm 'too nice' to be a spy…"

"Well, times are changing and so are you, so it's not that wild that you could just be in a period where you're still adjusting." suggested the menace. "Age could be a part of it, I guess, but more along the lines of 'you've been doing this for a long time, so you're probably going to inevitably have a few flubbed missions.'"

The other man only hummed in acknowledgment of the blonde, but it came out as more of a groan. Rolling his eyes, the menace turned so that his whole body was facing Ciel, adjusting his legs so that he was sitting on top of them. He then crawled on the bed a bit so that he was behind the Watchdog before taking the other man's towel off of his shoulders and putting it on his bluenette head. "You're hair's still wet."

"It's fine. It can air dry." Ciel replied, only for Jim to start drying his hair for him. Jim rubbed the towel against his husband's head and as hard as Ciel tried not to, he couldn't help but crack a little bit of a smile. He was a little disappointed when the menace stopped and put the towel around his shoulders like some sort of cape. Even worse, Jim got up. The blonde walked into the dressing room briefly, before getting Ciel's hopes up again as he returned and resumed his position. This time, the menace ran a comb through Ciel's bluenette locks, making the homesick Watchdog practically giddy from the attention.

"Y'know, I was also kinda pissed off because you were out making what I thought were dumb decisions while I was stuck home playing housewife while also having to go to dumb meetings." Jim finally confessed, staring down at the other man while he worked. "Sebastian's gonna have one hell of a time getting things back to usual standards, but I did my best. I wanted to scream sometimes, though. I'll make food for you sometimes, I'll help you decorate, and other stuff like that, but I'm no fuckin' housewife."

"I'm sorry..." sheepishly answered the Earl.

"It's fine. There weren't a lot of options, but I just want you to know, that when I first pulled up to that farm, I sincerely wanted to dropkick you. I probably would have, but a representative of the Supernatural Relations department running up on and kicking an old man isn't a great look when we're in front of a bunch of people we're trying to convince we aren't going to be hurt. You were saved by the rules of social engagement."

That made Ciel actually laugh. "I probably would have felt flattered that you were passionate enough about my absence in order to do that."

"You're weird..."

"Likewise. I missed you."

Smiling, Jim combed back the bluenette's bangs, wishing that he could see the relaxed look on his husband's face. "I missed you, too. Also part of the reason why I've elected not to kick you ass."

"And why you're playing with my hair, instead?"

"You have pretty hair..." the blonde said. "I want to run my hands through it when it's all dry and soft." He paused. "Is that weird?"

"No, I don't think so. I sometimes have the strange urge to press my face into the back of your head."

"Pfft-! Why?"

"It's fluffy..."

With a laugh, the blonde stopped combing and wrapped his arms around his husband's chest from behind. The pleasantness of it only made him giggle a bit harder, infecting the other man with his grin as he kissed the back of Ciel's head. Leaning his own to the side and pulling him even closer, pressing his chest against Ciel's back, he kissed the Watchdog's cheek before pulling back a bit and kissing his ear. It was cold despite the man's face being warm and becoming hot as the menace decided to breathe on it. Removing his arms from around Ciel's neck, the baronet placed his hands on the other man's shoulders, running them down until they reached the Watchdog's biceps. Ciel leaned his head to the side, giving Jim access to his neck while the menace gently trailed down to his shoulder.

"You haven't even kissed me properly, yet..." the bluenette eventually mumbled, prompting Jim to stop. Moving backward, Jim gently guided his husband to turn around so that he could join him and the two sat on their legs and faced one another with the menace reaching out to cup the other man's jaw. With that, he did the gentlemanly thing and pressed his lips very tenderly against Ciel's .

He really did miss him. He was lonely in this massive house, even though he had his brothers and Finny. His friends would come over to help him, too, so he was never short on company, but this was a type of loneliness that any of them could rid him of. It was a deep yearning that he had for the Watchdog. He wanted his company and he wanted the kind of intimacy that only Ciel could give him. It was close and it was tender. It was being able to comb his hair and being able to share in his warmth and his vulnerability. There was lust, of course, but that wasn't the sort of physicality that he wanted to convey. It was quiet and kind- the sort of love that wouldn't be conveyed with a simple "I love you." It was warm and it was soft- soft lips, soft tongue, soft skin, soft hair, and breaths and touches. The menace shuddered as the other man treated him kindly in return. Jim's hand savoured the feeling of the skin of his husband's back, but also the fresh sheets that stretched across the mattress as he balanced his weight on the other, guiding his beau to lay down. Finally, the blonde opened his eyes as he listened to a drawn out, pleasurable groan, followed by a rather content sigh, beneath him.

"My back..." the Watchdog said, starting another conversation where his husband least expected it. "Oh, that's nice..."

"What is it?" questioned the menace, still continuing to brush his lips against the other man's neck and collarbone while placing kisses throughout.

"The mattress..." Ciel continued. "The farm didn't have any good ones. It felt like laying on plywood. My spine… Oof... It's lined up perfectly..."

"Want me to rub it for you?" laughed his spouse. It was a genuine offer, as the menace was in the mood to spoil the Watchdog a little bit, but to both his surprise and amusement, Ciel had other ideas.

"No… I'm falling asleep as it is… If you did that, I might die..."

"Interesting~" hummed the menace before carrying on with what he was doing. He continued to kiss the other man's collarbone, neck, chin, jaw, cheeks, and lips. He'd pull away every so often in order to check on his spouse, only to smile as the poor man increasingly had difficulty managing to keep his eyes open. Ciel's face was completely relaxed, and as Jim kissed his lips, he could feel the Watchdog's grip at his back slacking and his ability to kiss back becoming weaker and weaker with each passing moment. The expression on the bluenette's face was rather amusing, Jim thought. There came a point where his contracted eye was completely closed while the Watchdog stubbornly used what little willpower he had left to look back at the menace, but unfortunately for him, his good eye was determined to close as well. Soon, his breathing slowed and he drifted off, leaving the blonde with nothing to do but admire his handiwork before curling up next to the Watchdog and going to sleep, himself.

There was no doubt whatsoever that this was going to be something for the menace to tease his husband with for a while, but the poor man was so cute, Jim simply couldn't resist messing with him. He was glad that his husband was able to relax, though. Pretending to be someone else in hostile territory with little in the way of creature comforts must have been stressful. Jim was just glad that the bluenette felt that safe with him, but also, he was glad that he could finally sleep again as well. It was hard being on his own, so he simply forewent the exercise most nights in his husband's absence. All was well in the Phantomhive household again, but things were still a tad stressful at Phantom House.

That night was like every night at the halfway house, with residents asleep in their beds while others were simply starting their "day." Renee was finally up and about, but despite all of the things she needed to do in order to get started on her new life in England, she had trouble moving on to do it. There were resources there for her to research the communities, there were people there for her to start making friends, she was scheduled to meet with a representative of the Supernatural Department to find her a house in a matter of hours, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't stop thinking about how she was thrown aside so easily and in such a humiliating fashion by Earl Phantomhive, but then again, he had abandoned her once before. Surely, she shouldn't be surprised.

She was alone. Certainly, she had the few servants that had survived long enough to make it there with her, but they, too, were becoming slowly unnecessary and there were two of them already that she knew of that were intending to move into their own home and no longer work for her. They, too, would leave her. Mademoiselle Lapointe felt foolish for thinking otherwise. There was no certainty as to how she was going to spend the rest of her days, here. All of her friends back home were either struggling to resist the last stand that the Iscariot Organisation was making against the government forming their own anti-freak task force, or they had already succumbed to it. She supposed that she would have to make friends, here, but hadn't the foggiest idea as to how she would do that without connections. That was how she always made friends: through other aristocrats. There was simply no way that she could learn to interact with common folk and especially foreign, common folk. Ciel was her only hope.

In the days that passed, she did wind up finding a flat in Gehenna, but there was room for only one servant, so she had to let the rest of them go. Serge was the one who remained. He would go to the shops and keep the house, finding things to beautify the shabby place, as it lacked furniture- which the poor woman didn't even know was a possibility. She had thought that all houses came with it, but it seemed that she was wrong. She was always wrong these days, it seemed.

Sitting by the window, she stared out at the street below, watching the nocturnal goings on as other people went about their lives. Some were going home for the night while others were just getting started. It was early. She couldn't sleep, so she sat by the window in her night gown, watching the streetlamps be lit as darkness overtook the city once more. Renee's mind was wandering, so she lacked focus, but noticed one person with a large back walking down the sidewalk, staring at an envelope and looking at all of the buildings. He seemed to be trying to find an address.

The ogre wore some sort of uniform and his bag seemed almost empty at this point, so she wondered if he was a mail carrier of some sort. After a while of walking up and down the street, his eyes finally became fixed on the entrance to Renee's apartment. He smiled and Renee watched in horror as the ogre approached her front door. While she was a prominent member of the supernatural community back home, the man didn't look like the sort she would associate herself with and she was still new to the area. It was all very scary to her. Serge wasn't awake yet and she was a woman alone in her night gown in a strange place. While she loved being surrounded by supernaturals like her, it was still all very new and there were species that she wasn't entirely familiar with. Thus, when the ogre approached her door, her eyes fixated on the stairs leading to her front doorway. She sat at the window, frozen, waiting for a knock that didn't come. Instead, she heard the tiny door to the mail slot open and then close again. After a moment, her head whipped to the side and she watched the street again, catching the ogre walking away.

He was just dropping off the last letter before he headed home. She was safe. She felt silly. Of course it was just the mail.

Quietly, she stood up and listened to the floorboards creak beneath her as she walked across the room and headed down the stairs. On the ground floor, sure enough, there was a letter. Holding her gown so that the neck wouldn't sag, she gracefully crouched down and plucked it up off of the ground. When she stood up, she noted the niceness of the paper that the envelope was made of as she read her own address. Turning it over, however, she stopped in her tracks. On the wax seal was a family crest and it was one that she knew. The sight of it made her eyes become wet and a smile to grace her face. He didn't forget.

Turning around, the vampiress climbed the stairs again and walked over to the little furniture she had. Two chairs and a table. She didn't have a letter opener, so she was left without any option but to pry the envelope open with her fingernails after she sat down. Unfolding the contents, she eagerly read on.

"_To the Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe," _it began.

_"Please do allow me to apologise for my behaviour at Granger Farms when we last met, for I am fully aware of the transgressions that I have inflicted upon you. Despite my efforts to get you to safety, I'm afraid that I handled you roughly and in a way that must have been humiliating for anyone, but in particularly a lady such as yourself. I assure you that my intentions were well-meaning, as I was worried that the brutes that Brodrick had under his thumb would get to you faster than I could protect both yourself and the escape vehicle. I do hope that you are well and are finding yourself in Gehenna alright._

_"Then, there is the matter of our relationship together. As you are very plainly aware, I was not the most mature of individuals back when you graciously allowed me to stay in your townhouse in France, so when I did leave you, I'm afraid that I did it in a way that was, well, boorish. I offer you my most sincerest apologies, though I know that words cannot undo the wrongs that I have committed against you. __Time has left its marks on me and I have grown much wiser and kinder since then. _

_ "If you feel so inclined to accept, I would like to offer you my sincere friendship and an invitation to my home this upcoming Tuesday (in the evening, of course.) I will be looking forward to your reply."_

He signed it from "Earl Ciel Phantomhive" and closed the letter, leaving the woman sitting at her table while practically beaming. She almost couldn't believe that he actually kept his word and invited her to his house. She didn't think he would and he did. She thought that he would just leave and she would never see him again like last time. Needless to say, she was practically giddy from the invitation and was eager for the date to arrive, only to realise that she needed to get ready.

When Serge got up, she needed him to help her get dressed so that she could go into town and buy stationary and a pen. He usually got up early, so she didn't think that she needed to wait for very long, but the excitement was getting her. Then, in an instant, that excitement turned into horror.

_"Oh no!"_ she declared aloud, clutching the letter to her chest as she stood up. The sound of her feet thudding against the floorboards echoed throughout the house as she rushed to her bedroom, falling to her knees in front of her trunk. Quickly, she set the letter down on the floor and began rummaging through it, holding up garment after garment before tossing them aside to fall somewhere haphazardly on the floor behind her while she searched for another dress. The vampiress created quite the commotion, it seemed, as eventually, her servant finally came into her room to check on her, knocking first before being allowed inside.

One can imagine the poor man's surprise when he laid eyes upon the grisly scene that his ordinarily reserved lady uncharacteristically created. He blinked, following the trail of destruction, knowing that he was the one who was going to have to eventually clean it up. Finally, he called out to the woman.

"Mademoiselle?"

The woman turned around. "_The Earl invited me to his house!"_ she declared, throwing down another dress. "_I have nothing to wear!_"


	32. Keeping Polite Company

Just like that, things went back to normal, apart from the small fact that the demonic duo were inseparable again, as they were in one of their moods after being apart for so long. Fortunately for them, they shared an office and they shared a desk, so if ever they felt deprived, they could simply lean over the divider or even just turn their heads to interact with their spouse. Ciel resumed his work with FUNTOM after his "holiday" and Jim continued stamping approvals to help alleviate some of the burden of the increased number of new applicants that the Supernatural Department was dealing with. He really didn't want to start heading in to the main office, so he worked as quickly as he could, mostly stopping to ask his husband for help with reading a word hear and their.

He was making good progress, cataloging all of the clients into their system and ordering adding notes of any prior brushes to the law to add to their notes from the police database. Sadly, he had spent hours doing this, so his mind was beginning to drift. The menace had read the document he was working on at that moment about three times, and still couldn't remember what it said! His luck was about to turn for the better, though- or perhaps for the worse- when his mobile started to ring. As soon as it did, both he and the Watchdog sitting next to him recognised the tone and knew that it was from Kristopherson.

"'Sup, dickhead?" the menace greeted without any ounce of hesitation. "Slacking off at work?"

"I wish." Mister Miles replied. Jim smiled as he could almost hear the sound of Kristopherson's eyes rolling as he spoke. "And a happy 'hello' to you, too, fuckface."

The cheerful greeting made Jim laugh. "What's up? Calling to check in on little ol' me?"

"Nah, I don't care about that. I know how you are right now." Kristopherson stated. "Disgusting. Probably engaging in PDA while I'm talking to you..."

"No, but I can if you want."

"Thanks, I'll pass. I've got to get back to work, but I needed to call you, first."

"'bout what?"

"Do you guys know a 'Renee Lapointe' at all?"

The questioned made the blonde pause. It was odd. He hadn't told Kristopherson about her yet, although from Ciel's description of her, she seemed like the sort of person who would inevitably wander into Kris' store, but not in a very good way. Thus, the demon very confusedly glanced over at his spouse. The Watchdog was oblivious to Jim's arched eyebrow, prompting the menace to return his attention back to Kristopherson.

"Yeah? She's one of Ciel's old friends. He ran into her on his mission. Why?"

"Well… She came into my store today…"

"Not unusual."

"...She came in after turning up last night. She argued with the night staff about seeing 'the designer' and then came in today all huffy because she didn't get her way. She kept bragging about how she was meeting 'the Earl Phantomhive' in a few days, so I was kinda curious..."

"Oh, good God..." The menace couldn't help but introduce the palm of his hand to his forehead. "I'm really sorry about that. I'll tell him about it. Was she bad?"

"Terrible! After that, she then got all indignant because I can't make a dress up to her quite frankly ridiculous specifications in one week!" continued the annoyed wolfman, raising his voice slightly. "All expensive material- which I'm not opposed to working with, but it's not stuff I usually sell, so I don't keep it in the shop. I'd have to either order it, which would take time, or ask my mum if she's got any scraps, which isn't a given. I don't understand what she expected me to do? I don't want to talk shit about somebody that your husband's friends with, but man, she was bad…"

"…I don't really know what to say about all of that. We've invited her over, but yeah… She shouldn't expect a bunch of pomp and circumstance, probably."

At this point, Jim looked over to see Ciel taking a break from his own work to rub his forehead and eavesdrop. From context, the Watchdog was able to figure out who his husband was talking about and he didn't like what he was hearing. Worse than that, however, he didn't disbelieve it, either.

"Yeah… I wouldn't want to be there… According to Logan, who was told by Helen, who Jeffery, the owner of the general store, told, she came in before Jeffery went home and complained about how they didn't carry any fancy stationary or envelopes. She asked where she could find someone who makes wax seals, too, but thank God he told her he didn't know. Logan would have been in her line of fire, otherwise."

Sighing, the blonde felt bad for his friends. "I'm really sorry about that… She's going to have to learn how to adapt, eventually. It's probably in her best interest, though. As long as vampires live, spending that money without bringing any in is gonna make her broke in no time. Just… I dunno… chalk it up to the shittiness of the service industry?"

"You should probably tell her how things work around here before she pisses off the wrong person…"

"We'll see. Thanks for letting me know, Kris. I'll… see if anything can be done about it, I guess?"

"It's alright. Mostly, I was warning you and seeing what's up about it since it was weird." the wolfman stated. "I've got to get back to work, though. I have a fitting in a couple minutes that I need to get ready for."

"Thanks, pinky. You're lovely." With that, the menace hung up, setting his phone back down on his desk. Very slowly, he turned his head and watched as his beau hung his own in his hands.

"You get any of that?" Jim asked, prompting the other to nod.

"I got enough..." Ciel answered. "Oh, dear… She's at it again… I should have known, really, but I've changed, haven't I?" He uttered a sigh. "She was like this while I was in France, too. She… She doesn't really have a great deal of understanding as to how the world works. She's naive, not malicious."

"Sounds like she gave Kris a rather rough time..." the blonde said with a playful click of his tongue.

"Well, that's part of it. She's so sheltered- and I am convinced she keeps herself sheltered on purpose, now, since the world has changed since that was the norm- that she cannot fathom how things come to be. She can't rationalise the fact that Kris has to order materials or that it's unreasonable for him to just have them laying around because she can't fathom that not all stores have the capacity. Andrea's doesn't sell to a particularly wealthy clientele and she doesn't know anything else, so how can that be the case in her mind?"

"That's… really depressing, actually."

"Indeed… You were right… I should have kept my bloody mouth shut. I have no idea how she's going to be when she shows up..."

"You want us to posh things up for the occasion? Should I start using received pronunciation? Pip pip, old bean, and all that..."

"No." Ciel said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest as he sat deep in thought. "It frightens me somewhat when you talk like that. It's not natural. Moreover, it'll do her no good to humour her fantasies. The best remedy for knocking the ponce out of someone is a harsh dose of reality. Starting a lie we can't maintain would perhaps be the worst thing we could do and should she somehow miraculously turn out be someone we wish to associate with, or even if she is someone who we must deal with from time to time, it'll be better if she knows us as our legitimate selves."

"I suppose." the blonde nodded along, turning his head back to stamp the paper in front of him. "So what's the plan? Just business as usual and a nice chat? Do you want me to leave you to it, or what?"

"Well, I'd like to introduce you, obviously, but I won't make you socialise. She seems like the sort who might… grate on your nerves just a bit."

"Down with the bourgeoisie."

"Precisely."

"I'll keep the introduction brief, then." the menace replied. "What's our angle, though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Am I your friend? Coworker? Business partner? Do I do work around the house? What's the story, here?"

"You are my husband and you will be introduced as such." the bluenette said in a somewhat snooty tone as if he were somewhat insulted by the suggestion of lying about it. Truth be told, he was, a bit. "Once again, coddling her and shielding her from reality will do her no good, but more importantly, I refuse to demote you. Your status as a member of the Phantomhive family and as my spouse is important."

"Oh?" grinned the menace, looking up to face the rather serious man to his right. "Well, then, I'll be sure to wear my signet ring."

"You should always wear it."

"You just wanna mark me as yours, don't you?"

"Well… Yes, but it's also a bit of a status symbol." Ciel stated, placing his fingertips on the keyboard in front of him. "It makes you look powerful. I like it." He smiled a bit when he heard Jim laughing.

"Alright, alright, I'll do that, then. I'll wear it when Renee comes over."

"Good. Now, all that's left is to figure out how exactly I'm going to entertain her for a few hours."

He assumed that they would simply talk and reminisce, but wanted to have some sort of backup plan in place just in case. Alas, he couldn't think of what would entertain a perpetually nineteen year old woman who was posh and lacked awareness. Truth be told, however, he highly doubted that this meeting would ever be what she wanted. He had no intention of dressing up any more than he would if Kristopherson, Travis, or any of the others came over. What reason was there to extend any better treatment than his established friend group? Unfortunately for her, this wasn't some formal gathering that actually required a new dress and honestly, Ciel thought that she ought to save her money.

That idea didn't come anywhere near her thoughts, however, as when the night finally came, she walked up the front steps of Phantomhive manor in a brand new blue dress. It was more modern than her usual pieces. She wore a pullover to conceal her shoulders, as it was already somewhat scandalous that she was going to be in the company of the opposite sex without an escort. Her servant accompanied her, certainly, but she was going to send him away so she could talk to the Watchdog on her own.

Serge knocked on the front door for her and very quickly, it was opened by the Phantomhive family butler. Somehow, Renee was surprised that it was still the same person, although she knew she probably shouldn't have been, especially since she was aware of the fact that Sebastian was contracted to Ciel for eternity. Very politely, the demon greeted her with a bow and ushered them both inside.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle. We have been expecting your company." the demon said with a slight bow. "Please follow me. The Earl is waiting in the green room."

Renee could hardly contain her excitement! At long last, she had finally gotten to lay eyes upon the Watchdog's house! It was a bit of a strange place, with hints of both old and new. As she and her servant were escorted through the halls, they noticed many strange artifacts. There were weapons and strange statues- many of which referencing literary characters and demons. Seeing the portraits on the walls pleased the woman, as she saw copies of old, black and white photographs of the Watchdog from the war. Some were portraits of just himself, while there were a few of him in groups. Some were of him with other soldiers, while others were of him with older-looking men in suits. It was like getting a peek in to what the man had been up to without him saying anything and it was rather thrilling.

There was a modern one of him with a platoon, as well. This one was not like the others in many ways, but most notably because in it, the Watchdog took on a significantly older appearance- the one that he had shown her on Granger farms. The group held up a banner that indicated that they were called the "Devildogs," whatever that meant. Younger pictures depicted him in a school uniform with similarly dressed boys, including one that appeared in a few portraits on the walls, as well. They must have been very good friends.

Finally, Sebastian knocked on a door, announcing both his and the vampires' prescence before opening it and beckoning the group inside. Renee took a few steps, but quickly turned around again. With a wave of her hand, she instructed: "You can wait out here, Serge." Without skipping a beat, however, her servant offered a bow and stayed behind.

"As you wish, Mademoiselle."

With that, the woman continued on, stepping into the room and bearing witness to even more unusual objects before watching the bluenette politely stand up to greet her. He was handsome and carried himself in the exact same dignified fashion that he always had, although his expressions seemed a bit softer, somehow. She found it odd that he was only wearing dress pants and a collared shirt to meet with her, however. That seemed both very unlike him and slightly inappropriate, but she said nothing.

"It's good to see you, Renee." the Phantomhive offered with a courteous smile. "I'm glad you could come. Please, take a seat, why don't you? May I offer you a drink?"

"Unless you have blood, I doubt that there is much in the way of drink that you could offer me." the woman replied, daintily using her hand to cover her mouth as she chuckled at her own remark before sitting down.

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that. I have connections that made me able to acquire some that's been donated, so if you do change your mind, feel free to have as much as you like." the Watchdog said, sitting back down in his chair and resting his elbows on the arms. He folded his hands together and leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other in a rather relaxed fashion. "I must say, however, I'm rather curious as to how you've been finding Gehenna. I hope it's not too boring for you."

"Well, it's quite the jump from Paris and the plethora of supernaturals is both welcome and frightening all at once. I have never met most of the creatures who live there, so it can be shocking, at times. There is also not very much in the ways of entertainment. Even the stores are somewhat lacking."

"Oh? In what way?"

"Every which way, it seems!" Renee answered with an exasperated tone. "Can you believe it takes them more than a week to make a custom ordered dress?" She scoffed. "The owner of the store- if you can call him that- gave some sorry excuse about not having the resources or some such. Can you believe that?"

"Indeed, I can, but you must not speak that way to Mister Miles, Renee." Ciel warned. "People talk and Kristopherson is on the town council. Not only that, he is a good friend of the Phantomhive family, so I would appreciate it if you would listen to him when he says that something isn't feasible."

"You-? But… Oh, dear, I'm so sorry, I hadn't realised..." A bright red dusted Renee's cheeks as the information washed over her. While she wanted to argue and ask questions, she restrained herself, denying herself that luxury as to not further offend her host.

"Do try to be careful in the future. It can be very easy to alienate yourself if you're known for being rude throughout the town. It may seem like a town full of unimportant nobodys, but… you must understand that you're there, too, so how unimportant can they be? However, I didn't invite you here in order to scold you. Far from it. I'm genuinely curious as to how you're settling in."

"Not very well, I'm afraid. My flat is still barren and it is very difficult to do things, now that I only have one servant. I feel like I may understand you a bit better in that capacity, now."

"It is difficult, at times, but not impossible. Sebastian is able to keep things running smoothly- especially since he's had lots of practise over the years. We do have a gardener again, however, who also does a few odd things around the house here and there when he's not tending to the plants. There are other residents who pitch in from time to time, though, too."

"Oh, really? Well, it's good that you were able to find new servants. We vampires just form covens, so I can't really imagine how difficult it must be to find people who are alright with your condition."

"Not really. If I really wanted to fill the roster, I would just post adds in Gehenna." Ciel informed. "The real difficulty is security clearance. I only have two servants. The others are close family."

"Family?!" the woman incredulously echoed. "You have family? Now, that's shocking… I thought that you… I mean… That's surprising! I thought that your family was… well… you know..."

"Oh, my immediate, blood relatives are, although I do have a few cousins. Elizabeth is alive. She's become an angel. She married into the HELLSING family once upon a time, it seems."

"Elizabeth?! You mean, your former fiance?!"

"Indeed. Her granddaughter is alive and is the current head of the HELLSING organisation. They have a long-standing feud with Iscariot, so they won't bother you as long as you're in the United Kingdom. Just don't go to Ireland, because they have jurisdiction."

"I don't know what to think about all of that. I don't understand the politics of supernatural groups at all. I don't care who they are as long as they don't bother me, really." she said. "But forget about that. What about your family?"

"The international supernatural community is rather interesting, I think. It's good to keep in contact with one another, just in case. If there is a new group in France as you say, it will be important for HELLSING to be versed in it."

Blinking, Rennee pressed her lips together in a thin line, disapproving of how the conversation was turning out. "Let's not talk about your work, shall we?" she asked, folding her hands very daintily in her lap. "I've had my fill of that dreadful business..."

"It's my business and I take great interest in it." Ciel stated. "My spouse and I have been discussing the possible outcomes of the situation for days, now."

"You're-" The air escaped from the vampiress' lungs. For the first time in a while, her cheeks flushed pink. She smiled, looking down while awkwardly taking that information in. Here Ciel was, even more handsome than she could have imagined him being when he finally grew up- he was right there in front of her!- yet, he was still completely, irredeemably, unobtainable. The handsome noble from England with a dignified, mysterious air- the one who was so much kinder that many others she had seen in his position, and who was also ageless and deathless, just like her was still not within her grasp. He was taken from her by some woman she had never seen before and who Ciel himself had neglected to mention. She had been hoping once she came to England that he would have saved himself for her, but he hadn't. Of course, he hadn't, but she still felt that it was unfair.

"You're married?" she asked calmly, her shoulders stiffening as she regained a dignified air. The Watchdog answered once again in a very nonchalant manner.

"Oh, yes, yes I am." He smiled. It stunned her. It wasn't the small little curve of the lips that she was used to from him. The man flashed his teeth as he held up his ringed hand and everything, seemingly proud of it, but that only made it sting a bit worse. "This will be our third year of marriage in July."

"Well… Congratulations." Renee politely answered with a slight nod of her head. She swallowed. "And… Where, pray tell, is your wife?"

"My spouse it upstairs, getting some work done in the office."

"Working? But you're an Earl!"

"I'm not a fan of layabouts. Besides, wouldn't it be boring, doing nothing all day? One must find a way to occupy their time or go mad!" The bluenette chuckled, only to find his attention occupied elsewhere when the sound of a door opening on the far side of the room interrupted them. Ciel's head turned to follow the sound and smiled when he laid eyes upon the source. "Speak of the devil!" he said, standing up. The action prompted Renee to do the same out of politeness despite really not wanting too. She reluctantly turned to meet the Countess, only to raise her eyebrows when a very handsome, young man entered the room.

He looked to be about the same age as Ciel, although his frame was a bit smaller. He was toned, however, not delicate. His hair and eyes were both pale and his face was catlike and soft, but the man carried himself with a somewhat rough affectation. Briefly, he and Renee locked eyes, prompting him to offer her a nod and a quick "Hello."

"H-hello..." Renee replied, clumsily echoing the gesture back to him. The blonde then turned his attention to Ciel and he stopped.

"Do you know if we have any spare memory sticks?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "Mine's starting to go out and I need to move everything over before it does."

"Uh… Did you check the drawers on my side?" the Watchdog offered.

"Not the locked ones, no."

"Well, feel free to go ahead. You know how to get into them." Ciel changed gears, however, holding out a hand to beckon the menace closer. "Let me introduce you to the Mademoiselle, first." Putting his arm around Jim's shoulders, he gestured to the menace and introduced him first, as his rank was higher. "Renee, this is my husband, the baronet, Sir Jim Phantomhive. He's the head of the Supernatural Relations Department and was one of the people in charge of the mission at Granger farms. Jim, this is Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe. She housed me when I was in France and was the head of a large coven, there."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle." Jim finally addressed her with a smile, holding out a hand for her to shake. "Thank you so much for supporting Ciel out in the field. Your intel really helped us."

He stood there, hand outstretched, smiling, but his smile soon began to fade as the woman took no action. Arching an eyebrow, he waited, watching her, but still, nothing. Then, as the awkward silence could not get any more deafening, the woman's eyes began to roll back and her legs began to falter. The back of her hand met her forehead in a dramatic fashion as she fell backwards onto the couch behind her.

* * *

**A/N: Posh people are... fascinating, aren't they? Renee is just Renee, though. She reminds me of a specific type of person, but I actually have trouble putting it into words? She's idealistic, but also wishy-washy? I don't know how to summarise her, so hopefully, you guys can figure out what the fuck I mean from the story? I am... baffled... truly baffled...**

**I hope to wrap this up soon so I can move on to other random ideas, though. I have a very, very, vague idea for a new arc, but? Y'know, it's so vague, and it's not what I want to write right now, so I'm probably gonna catch up with some side characters for a bit while I flesh those ideas out. There's other kind of... Mini-arcs(?) I wanna do before then, too, so we'll see how this turns out. I hope that doesn't disappoint anybody too terribly... I am sort of worried about that!**

**I'll do what I can!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	33. Shifting Attentions

The world was dark as Renee squeezed her eyelids shut tighter. She was beginning to shake herself free of sleep and found herself in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes finally opened when she realised that she was not in her coffin at home, having found herself covered in high thread-count sheets. Immediately, she bolted upright and peered around the room.

It was nicely decorated with Victorian motifs and she found herself obviously in the house of someone with a decent degree of wealth. The Earl! She remembered. She somewhat wished that she hadn't. Her heart ached in her chest as she remembered the circumstances in which she lost consciousness. How embarrassing. The woman leaned forward and hugged her legs, placing her head on top of her knees as she contemplated what to do about it.

While she hadn't exactly been waiting all of this time to be with Ciel and her pining was undedicated, she did expect that they would be together once she saw him all grown up. Even when they first struck up their pseudo "friendship," she liked the way that he was so dignified, so regal, and so mysterious. He was a tortured soul like in her books, who would undoubtedly be saved by her love. But that was creepy, wasn't it? That was a horrible thing for her to project onto him back then. In the back of her mind, she knew this, but it was like beauty and the beast. She would save him from the childish prison he had built for himself and they would live happily ever after.

Naturally, she ignored how abhorrent this was as it was inconvenient to her narrative.

But now, he was so masculine! So strong! So powerful! Ciel was handsome and dashing- he was a true gentleman to boot! And he was an Earl again! What more could Renee have asked for? How a man like that could also want to marry a man was difficult for her to wrap her head around. She wasn't so sheltered that she hadn't any idea as to what that was or meant. She had seen people… "like that" on television before, but they weren't anything like Ciel. He didn't swish his hips are talk in a lisp. He didn't carry himself like a woman or wear women's clothes or even makeup, so she found it difficult to make sense of. She liked those men on the television. They were funny! But Ciel? It just didn't add up. They had been married for almost three years, too! She didn't know how he could do it!

Tears began falling down her face and onto her knees. It wasn't as though she never had any other options, you know. She did. There were quite a few, but they weren't handsome enough or too poor. They didn't have any status and they didn't know how to talk and behave like they did, so she had simply brushed them aside, holding out for someone much better. Nothing else mattered but the breeding, after all. But was this how men felt when she rejected them? Possibly. She didn't know. She didn't know if their hearts could be broken like this. The thought never crossed her mind, but now, it only did for a brief moment as she was feeling sorry for herself as she reflected on the fact that she would surely never find love and would most likely live the rest of her eternal unlife alone.

"A man..." she chuckled quietly to herself. "How could fate be so cruel?"

She sat like that for a while, just taking it in and feeling what she was feeling. She sniffled and gripped the blankets tightly in her hands. There was no way that she could let her host see her like this. With a knock at the door, she jolted, staring at the entrance with wide eyes and raised brows. Every single nerve was standing on end.

"Mademoiselle?" Serge called from the other side of the door. Renee deflated with a long sigh. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." she answered. "Come in."

Softly, the door opened and light poured into the room until it was closed again. "Mademoiselle? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes… I'm- I'm fine..." the woman replied, wiping her eyes with her palm. "I'll be fine."

Her servant hesitated, knowing that she was upset, but unsure of how to best assist her, for once. "Are you hungry?" Serge asked. "They have blood packs. I can get you one."

"No. I am alright, Serge." Renee sniffled again. "Thank you."

Her servant hesitated, glancing around the room before pestering her further. "What is it that you wish to do, now?"

Throwing the blankets off of her, the woman threw her legs over the side of the bed. "Put my shoes on."

"Of course." This was not a task that the Phantomhive butler did any longer, but the Lapointe butler continued to. He slid her shoes onto her feet, resting them on his thigh as he crouched and fastened the buckles that held them in place. Still, he would like some clarity. "Are we going to leave, Mademoiselle?"

"I think it would be wise." his mistress answered, staring straight ahead. "I… I should talk to our hosts and make my apologies, first."

"Very good, Mademoiselle." And with that, the conversation swiftly died.

Mademoiselle Lapointe somewhat needed the quiet in order to think of how on earth she was going to interact with the Phantomhives. Phantomhives! Plural! It was a complete shock to her. Not only was Ciel married, it was too a man- she had to keep repeating it to herself in her head in the hopes that it would eventually sink in and feel normal to her, but it was difficult. It didn't fit Ciel's image- or rather, the image of him that she had built up in her mind. That "Ciel" simply didn't exist.

He was not some noble gentleman straight out of a romance novel who would save her and guide her to happiness. He was not going to sweep her off her feet- unless it was to throw her into the back of a car, that is. His life was not one of leisure. He didn't seem to want a life like that. In reality, he wouldn't be able to cope. The danger was safe to him. It was familiar. That wasn't the sort of "mysteriousness" that Renee was looking for, nor was the dawning realisation that he was not a perfect person. She knew that he had a rough childhood, but had never stopped to think about the ramifications of that. Even now, the thought didn't occur to her. She was too busy mourning the loss of a relationship that could never be and a man that never even existed in the first place.

Once she was once again decent enough to present herself in front of other people, she walked out into the hallway and followed her servant back to where she needed to be. Walking steadily, with back and shoulders straight, chin parallel to the floor, and with the dignity and grace of someone who hasn't just had her heart broken. All of that almost evaporated the moment she saw Ciel and his husband. She flinched at just the sight of them together, now understanding the context in which they were together.

Ciel was sitting in the same armchair that he was before, but this time, there was a fair-haired man sitting on the armrest, chatting with the Watchdog in his strange accent with a bright smile. He leaned his elbow on the back of the chair and played with locks of the other man's hair, petting them, stroking them, and curling them around his finger. All the while, the bluenette smiled back. Worse still, whatever it was that the blonde was whispering to him made him do something that Renee had never seen from him before. Ciel actually threw his head back and laughed.

He actually laughed. It was genuine- not just a polite chuckle, nor was it the knowing, eloquent chuckles that she had seen him offer if he were feeling particularly generous. No, he actually laughed at whatever it was the blonde was whispering to him and Renee was not privy to it in the slightest. Once more, the image of him she had cracked even further. Those chuckles she had heard before were all fake. Her shoulders slouched and suddenly, she felt incredibly embarrassed, now knowing that he had been humouring her. All the while, however, she was amazed at how the menace was able to provoke such a response. Taking a deep breath in order to gather her nerve, she crossed the threshold between the room and the hallway and announced her presence by clearing her throat.

Ciel's smile didn't fade as he looked over at her, ready to greet his guest, but it did waver as his husband stood up from the chair, prompting him to do the same. The menace placed his hands in his pockets, carefully looking to Ciel for some reassurance that his presence there was alright. He relaxed slightly when the Watchdog nodded at him.

"Are you alright, Renee?" Ciel questioned. "How are you feeling?"

Terrible, but she couldn't let him see that. "I am well, I assure you, but I must offer you my sincerest apologies to you and your spouse, my lord. It was horridly rude for me to react in such a way to the two of you, so I do hope that you will forgive me."

"It's alright. We both talked about it and understand that it must have come as quite a shock to you."

The woman looked past him, briefly, locking eyes with the blonde behind him. Jim offered her an apologetic look and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't seem like a terrible person, as far as she could tell, so as much as she wished the situation wasn't so, she found it difficult to be upset by him.

"All the same, it must be embarrassing for us both." she said. "I must have you know that your… persuasion does not bother me in the slightest and that it was not my intention to offend."

"That's quite alright." Ciel said, hoping to put an end to the display before something was said that made things feel even more awkward than they already were.

"It's just that you don't look like someone who is like that." There it was. "You're more masculine than I would have expected."

"Well, there isn't exactly a requirement." the bluenette replied. He chuckled politely. Renee's cheeks flushed red.

"I'm sorry, was that incorrect?" she asked. "I've never really been in this situation before..."

"Most people have to learn how to 'speak the language' in a way, so as long as you're learning, it should be fine." Glancing around, Ciel gestured toward his own chair as he started to walk toward the couch. "Would you like a seat?"

"I…" she hesitated, unsure of what to do next. This went against all of the etiquette that she knew. The rules of engagement had suddenly been tossed out the window, so she had no idea as to how she was supposed to navigate this, now. "I'm not certain..." she bashfully confessed. "I would very much like to get to know you, but I'm afraid I might have overextended my welcome..."

Ciel paused, glancing over at his spouse, who shrugged and waved his hand before sitting down on the couch. He was willing to humour her, so Ciel decided that he was, too. "Well, we haven't really interacted yet, so it's unlikely." he said, taking a seat next to his spouse. He put an arm on the back of the sofa behind his beau's shoulders, asserting his relationship to both Renee and the menace himself. "I'm willing to get to know you, if you're willing to start over again. I was never… I was never really honest with you, I'm afraid, so I've been a terrible excuse for a friend, if you could even call me that. You're free to leave if you'd like to, of course, but you're also still welcome to stay."

She hesitated for a moment, rocking on her feet, before eventually carrying herself over to the chair that the Earl had been sitting in, folding her hands in her lap and making herself very small. Her eyes darted over toward the two demons once more, landing on Jim, prompting the both of them to look away. Sensing the tension between them, the Watchdog took it upon himself to attempt to close the gap.

"Jim was actually the connection in the Supernatural Relations department I was telling you about, Renee." he said, gesturing to his spouse with his free hand. "He's the one who handled your paperwork."

"Oh, really?" the woman asked with a hint of nervous laughter. The menace blinked for a moment before chuckling himself.

"Oh! Yes! That was me. I did do that. Haha..." Reaching up, Jim rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. "Is the flat suiting you alright? Ciel suggested that I focus the search in Gehenna. They have a very nice community, there."

"Yes! It's very nice, although I haven't been able to get out and do very much." the woman stated. "It's all rather overwhelming, I'm afraid. I used to know what the… 'Supernaturals,' you call them, were doing, but now they're everywhere and I haven't and idea where to start!"

"Well, there's a pub in town that often has things going on. It's called 'The Wolf's Glen.' They often have live music and they show films at least once a week. They make vampire-friendly drinks, as well, so it might be a good place to start." Jim helpfully answered. He visibly relaxed, the more he spoke, and the more he relaxed, the more the vampiress did as well. "The church sometimes has events going on as well- don't worry, the woman who runs the building, Sister Dorothy, is a vampire as well, so there's nothing to worry about on that front. There is a bulletin board near the Town Welfare Center that has all of the local events posted and you should also see adds in the paper, if you're signed up for it."

"There's a paper?"

"Of course! The Gehenna Times reports on all kind of supernatural happenings and things affecting the supernatural community to both Gehenna and Pyestock. There's also a book shop that sells supernatural-written works, as well as things written by humans."

Nodding, the woman paused. "I know no one there."

"You will." Ciel insisted. "Take Serge with you until you find your feet."

"I think I'd like that." Renee finally smiled. "You're very knowledgeable about the town, Sir Phantomhive." she said, looking to Jim.

"Well, it is my department."

"Don't sell yourself short, Jim. You helped found the place!" chimed in the Watchdog.

"I built a few bookshelves… Everything else was just talking. I'm a talker, but also a thug. I'm not suited for delicate operations like that."

"Poppycock." the Earl scoffed. "You handled it beautifully and had you been at Granger Farms instead of me, things would have gone a lot more smoothly."

"Does Sir Phantomhive go on missions as well?" Renee questioned.

"Yes, it's… uh… not very nice business." Jim replied.

"He's an incredibly valuable asset out in the field." boasted the Watchdog, prompting his husband to look over at him with an arched eyebrow. "I like him this way, though. I don't think I could ever marry someone who's nice and dainty all of the time. The prospect simply doesn't interest me." That addition got him elbowed in the ribs by his spouse, but it was still true, as embarrassing as the statement may be for their guest. "I'm not exactly a good nobleman who follows all of the rules that I'm supposed to, either, so it simply wouldn't be fitting."

Although embarrassed and confused by the sentiment that Ciel would be horrendously bored by a woman- or even a person like herself in a romantic context, Renee found it difficult to be entirely upset. She was fascinated by the Phatomhives and found that even after all of her assumptions about Ciel being unraveled, she found that he was still just as mysterious as ever. Indeed, he and his spouse were both very interesting. They went on adventures, they loved and supported one another, and had many, many, strange and fascinating nuances about them that she couldn't quiet explain. Indeed, the real person was far more interesting than the one she had created in her head. Instead of a character from a romance novel, they were instead characters in some thrilling adventure series with daring feats and a passionate romance that made her wish for them to stay together! She was confused by her feelings, but also very excited. The Phantomhives were exciting! But more than that, she was also excited for them to be together. A thousand questions shot off inside her head like electricity. Many of them weren't exactly appropriate, given that they were still not quite "friends," yet, but she needed to appease her curiosity to some extent.

"But when you marry a man," she began, capturing the duo's attention, "how do you decide who does certain things? For example: who leads and who follows while dancing? And who pays when on a date?"

The pair paused and looked at each other for a moment. The horror they felt at the first part of the question had faded and they were left with what was a considerably polite, if not very confused heterosexual woman asking them some reasonably tame questions. With a shrug, Jim decided to offer an answer.

"With dancing, it's more like whoever thinks which role is more fun or which one they feel like at that moment, and with paying, there's a couple of ways of going about it: A lot of couples split the cost or pay their own way, but the way we usually do it, it depends on whoever suggested the date, I'd say." said the baronet rather thoughtfully as his husband nodded. "I hate it when it's just Ciel paying, so at first, I argued with him a few times about it. It just didn't seem fair and I like to treat him, too, y'know?"

Renee's smile widened at the question as her blush somewhat darkened. She giggled, politely covering her mouth with her hand. "That sounds nice, actually. But I still think I would much rather have the man pay."

"To each their own, I guess?" While Jim didn't really care for the sentiment, he wasn't going to completely disregard her and hurt her feelings for his husband's sake. Then again, it was difficult for him to tell at this point what the Watchdog was thinking. In private, seemed disinterested, but Ciel was a very good actor in public when he wanted to be. As the conversation wore on, however, Jim found himself able to wager a guess.

The woman's questions continued in that vein, so the conversation appeared to transform in an interrogation about the duos' sexuality in order to satisfy Renee's curiosity. Good lord, she was one of "those" girls. She didn't seem to have any malice, per se, but it was very clear that she found them to be a point of fascination. Not once during the conversation did she pick up on the demons' growing discomfort.

Jim went from uncertain as to what Ciel's stance on the woman was to very certain over the course of the conversation and eventually, it came to an end when the bluenette insisted that they had stayed up long enough and that Renee should probably start heading home. Renee seemed reluctant, but the bluenette was charming, taking advantage of his gentile nature as he herded her toward the door. Before the woman even realised it, she and her servant were standing on the Phantomhives' doorstep. Her smile persisted, however, as she was walked to her car, satisfied with how the evening turned out. She was disappointed that her initial fantasy did not come true, but was happy to still be "friends" with the Watchdog, and to find a new light to see him in, as flawed as that perspective was as well.

Ciel, on the other hand, deflated as soon as the door was shut, slouching his shoulders and dropping his smile with an exhausted look on his face. He turned around, walking back into the green room, and sat down with a long sigh. Somehow, he couldn't tell if that went as well or perhaps worse than he expected it would. Either way, he was tired, just as he anticipated. His husband, however, was still baffled as to what on earth had just transpired.

"You alright?" the blonde questioned, prompting the bluenette to lounge on the couch, placing his legs across Jim's lap as he rubbed his face with his hands.

"Ugh… No, not really..." Ciel answered, still feeling a broad range of emotions despite his fatigue. "She's so… annoying! I feel bad for thinking that, but good lord… It's stressful, having to explain things to straight people, especially if that's all they want to talk about! At least she doesn't seem interested in being my wife anymore, so there's a happy bonus…" He shuddered. "I understand my age back then, but mentally? I was fourteen… Though obviously, she appears to be in the same boat!"

"Yeah, not gonna lie, I'm not too happy about that." Jim answered. "Is that why you didn't tell her that you're bi?"

"I would have never heard the bloody end of it if I had to try and explain that, Jim… I like men. I like women. It's a simple concept, so you wouldn't think that would prompt so many questions, but answering questions about being in a relationship with the same sex is excruciating enough! She seemed to have some romantic notion that I was going to grow into the man of her dreams after she cured me of my 'curse' or something. I'd rather not give her any semblance of hope."

"Don't invite her back, then?" Jim suggested. "Y'know, do the 'polite, but maintaining an emotional distance' thing? That was fucking wild, though, wasn't it? She went from one interest to another ridiculously quick! How the hell did that happen?"

"That's just the way she is. She's naive, impulsive, and easily swayed."

"Yikes, no wonder you bailed on her in France..."

"Jim, that's an awful thing to say..." Ciel answered. "But yes, basically, yes… At least it's over with, for now. Hopefully, we can have a bit of peace around here, for a while."

"Hopefully..." Jim nodded, resting his arms on Ciel's shins. He paused before adding. "I'd quite like some action, though. I've been cooped up all of this time, so some crime sounds a bit appealing."

"Indeed, it does, doesn't it? Quite right, you are, darling… Maybe one where you'll get to punch someone."

"Sounds like a blast." the menace wistfully sighed. "Here's hoping for it. In the meantime, though, I guess we're stuck with domestic life and all that."

"Dreadful. Simply dreadful." Sitting up, Ciel suddenly wrapped his arms around Jim's shoulders, prompting the other man to playfully squeal before placing a kiss on his cheek. "We'll never survive."


	34. The Most Gentile of them All

Late in evening, the Phantomhive house and the houses related to it were at peace, despite a rather bothersome houseguest and all was well with the world. The usual nightly routines commenced throughout the land and things seemed to be in perfect order. At least, that is what Oliver Midford thought before he accidentally dosed off in one of the sitting rooms of the Midford estate.

He was alone and had stayed up in order to talk to his own guest, the leader of the faoladh working under HELLSING, Claire Whelan. She was a fascinating woman, despite their somewhat rocky past, and he genuinely enjoyed her company. He found her interesting, so he made it part of his routine to stay up and visit with her, but this time, however, he fell asleep, laying down on the sofa while waiting. When he awoke, he jolted as he was startled by suddenly being covered by something. When he looked down at his chest, he found that it was a jacket.

It was made from a strange material that seemed to stretch endlessly and was lightweight. It was made for warmer weather. It had a HELLSING patches and second-lieutenant emblems on the epaulettes. More pressingly, it smelled rather nice, but he couldn't get absorbed in that, as the owner of the garment was standing over him, startled that he was startled.

"Have you considered going to sleep in a bed?" Claire asked as she looked down at him. It was strange, seeing her in a t-shirt, but from the trousers she was wearing, it was simply part of her uniform without the jacket. "It's much more comfortable. Did you know that?"

"Thought about it, but I thought I'd experiment a bit." Oliver answered back. The woman had taken to joking with him lately and he was not going to shut that down in any way, shape, or form! "Did you go to work today? Er- tonight? What time is it?"

"Technically, it is morning, but it's still dark out. I haven't been called in, yet, so I'm still hanging around. I did receive a call from work, however, with news on my accommodations."

"Oh, really? Are they almost done?"

"They are done, technically, but they're installing furniture tomorrow." the wolfwoman dutifully replied. "You should expect me out of your house, by then."

"Oh! Oh..." her host looked down. His reaction was so immediate that he he hadn't the time to mask the disappointment in his voice, prompting the woman to tilt her head. He perked back up again, but it seemed less sincere. "That's great! Must be a bit of a relief to finally have your own space, huh?"

"Well, yes, it is." Claire answered as the man stood up. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I will submit a formal 'thank you' to your family once I've settled in."

"I'll tell them to look at it, but from the looks of you, you're already messing up. No bow or curtsy or anything? Tsk, tsk, Whelan! Where are your manners?"

"Probably in the same place as your head." the woman replied. Her host stared at her for a moment as the shock of the joke washed over him. The corners of her mouth threatened to curve as she tried desperately to keep a neutral expression, only to fail as soon as Oliver smiled at her.

"Well, look at you, little miss sassy-cape!" he laughed. "Not all business anymore? Whatever happened to that fierce professionalism of yours?"

"It's difficult to interact with you like that, so I put it on the backburner, a bit. Nothing more."

"So you're saying we're not..."

"Don't."

"Fr..."

"_Don't."_ Claire scowled.

"_Friends~?"_ The smile on Oliver's face was absurdly mischievous and unendingly entertained as he forced the woman to roll her eyes.

"How on earth are we friends?!"

"You joke with me when you don't joke with other people. You cover me up when I'm asleep. Admit it, Claire. You like me."

"Stop!"

"You enjoy my company!"

"No!"

"Oh my God… Do you _want my number_ so we can _keep in touch?_ Oh, Claire, you minx~!"

"Ugh!" the woman let out in an uncharacteristically childish way. "You're unbelievable! How are you doing this?!" she demanded, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders. Effortlessly, she picked him up, much to this increasing delight. "Answer me, human! How are you able to get under my skin and inside of my head?!"

"I don't have the foggiest idea, I'm afraid. I just think your reactions are cute."

Claire blinked with wide eyes and furrowed brows at the statement. She paused, then squinted suspiciously with a tilt of her head. "'Cute?'" she echoed confusedly.

"Cute." Oliver nodded. "You're cute."

Despite the clarification, the woman stared blankly at him for a few moments, still. Then, all at once, her cheeks flushed pink and she recoiled in horror, dropping him on his feet and taking a few steps back. "Are you mad?!" she demanded, holding up a hand to keep him at bay. "You're talking about a faoladh warrior! You know that I cannot maintain a human shape on full moons! You saw it! I also cut off your arm! What sort of ailment is affecting your mind?! Have you some sort of illness or parasite?!"

"Geez, you don't have a lot of confidence when it comes to this stuff, do you?" the Midford questioned, with a skeptical look. "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with my brain. Is this the kind of conclusion you jump to with every guy who seems interested?"

"Of course not!" Claire huffed, dramatically standing up straight with a deep frown. "I received plenty of offers after it we discovered that our kind can reproduce with one another! I am the head of the Whelan clan, after all! It would be a strategic political move for any supernatural to ask for my hand! But you! Surely you, the son of a marquis, have much better prospects; especially with your own kind! Why aren't you bothered by that?!"

"By what? The arm thing, the wolf thing, or the status thing?"

"All of it!"

"Not really." Oliver casually shrugged. "I mean, I've been with human girls before, but I don't really care about that. I saw you as a wolf-lady, and I'll admit, it was kinda spooky at first, but honestly? I have a distant cousin who's a demon, so you just kinda get used to it. Besides, I'm the second son. My older brother's probably gonna inherit, so it's fine. As for the arm? Don't even worry about it."

"Of course I'm going to worry about it! You can't regenerate!"

"It's fine, it's fine! I'm not even mad. There's no need to get all worked up about it."

"I assure you, there most certainly is..."

"Either way..."

"Don't change the subject!"

"But it's important!" the Midford protested with a faux-pout. "Either way, you're only giving me reasons that are sensitive to me and my feelings. What about you? How do you feel about me?"

His guest opened her mouth to spit out a reply, but the words died in her throat. Her complexion darkened, as the questioned sparked some rather mysterious feelings of embarrassment in her that she couldn't quite explain. She didn't dislike him and she rather enjoyed his company, but she didn't quite know if she had any "interest" in him in that sort of way. At the same time, however, she mulled over the idea, rather than outright rejecting it. Still, the matter of status should not be trifled with that easily. While some people, like the Phantomhives, were able to work out the difference in class, she couldn't allow Oliver to give up future prospects that easily.

"I don't hate you." she said. "I think of you more casually than one would a typical officer and I enjoy your company. Regardless, however, this is not something that a person should throw themselves into without conviction."

"Then, how about this: Claire..." the man began with a disarming grin. Claire had no idea what he was up to, but she was extremely cautious as he spoke. "...I challenge you to a duel."

"Quit messing around!" the wolfwoman reflexively snapped, baring her fangs.

"I'm not! It's perfectly legitimate! We Midfords have a tradition of settling matters of the heart with duels! My great-great-great grandfather, the Marquis Alexis Midford fell in love immediately after losing a duel to his future wife and Sir Isaac Hellsing dueled Alexis' wife, Francis, every time he came to the Midford estate until she and her husband agreed to let him have the hand of Elizabeth Hellsing! Even with the Phantomhive family, Ciel fell in love with and married his rival, but I am not even asking for that! There is no need to be that hasty, you see. Instead, all I am asking for in return if I win is one date."

"You say it's best not to be hasty, but you do understand that you're betting life and limb for a date, right?" exasperatedly questioned the woman.

"It's worth it, as far as I can see. Unless you give me a flat-out no, as in 'no, I am not interested in you romantically,' I request a duel. Of course, if you are too fightened, I fear that I may have misjudged you. I thought you were a much more fearsome woman than that..."

"Isn't that just a reason why you shouldn't be interested in me?"

"Not at all! It's part of your allure!"

Staggering slightly, Claire worried that she may collapse from the exhaustion of trying to explain to this man as to why he was a fool to no avail. Defeated, she relented. She didn't have to fight him seriously, did she? That would be far too overkill for a one-armed, human man.

"Very well..." she finally replied. "I accept your challenge. What are your terms?"

Oliver's grin widened, much to his guest's dwindling astonishment. "We will fight the evening after tomorrow so that I can find a suitable battleground for us in time. Only two weapons will be available to us: one bladed-weapon of our choosing and one pistol. The first one to be incapacitated will be the loser. The terms for my victory will be that I may have your company on a romantic date. What are the terms for yours?"

"My what?"

"Your victory, of course."

With a slight groan, the woman paused, not knowing exactly what to ask for. There wasn't anything in particular that she wanted from him, so she simply said: "That you will give up and go find a more suitable woman to pursue."

"What? That's so boring, though..."

"If you propose a duel on the spot, that is what you get."

"Fine. If you think of something better, then change it."

"That's not how duels work..."

"I'm a Midford. I know all about duels. I'm an expert. A duel-ologist."

"Please… Just stop… I can't handle anymore lunacy this evening. I need to recover from the madness that you've displayed already..."

"Fine. Shake on it, though." Oliver instructed, offering his left hand. "Make it legitimate." With a roll of her eyes, the woman agreed. With a shake of the hand, the pact was sealed.

"Happy, now?" Claire asked.

"Yes, very." With that, the man's plans for the next few days were set in stone.


	35. Planning Ahead

The morning was calm and quiet, especially since Samantha slept in long enough to avoid the crowd as everyone else was heading in to work. Her mind was heavy as she had many thoughts that weighed her down. You see, when she awoke, she found a pile of mail on the floor that Daniel had apparently stepped over on his way out the door. He was coming in earlier after he started seeing Mister Ravenscroft, but she supposed that it was an improvement. Still, one would think that he could pick the mail up off of the floor so that she wouldn't have to walk downstairs when she didn't need to right away. Then again, perhaps it wasn't exactly fair to ask Daniel to do so either, given that he was the one who was actually working. Samantha checked the mail that day and was shocked at how everything had come in at once. Perhaps it was difficult for human mail to pass through the supernatural mail, however, since it wasn't in quite the same system.

She had received not one, not two, but an acceptance letter from practically every university that she had applied to. Now she had a task ahead of her that was simple on paper, but complicated in practise: She had to pick which one she wanted to go to. Perhaps she could go to something more local and stay near her friends and her brother, as well as the supernaturals who she ultimately wanted to write about and research, but she had also been accepted into some rather posh schools that offered a "better" education, as well as some that were abroad. While she thought that if she left, she would benefit immensely, a part of her worried that if she did, she would come back and realise that all of this was just a dream.

Gehenna was a beautiful town with wonderful, interesting, people. It was a world that few of her kind had the privilege to see, let alone be apart of! It was a world that the vast majority of the human population thought could only exist in fantasy novels, but it was real, and it was home. Samantha worried that if she passed through those gates to go to university at Oxford, at Cambridge, Edinburgh, or even America, it would be like passing through the wardrobe a second time and she would return to her life as it was before: With her brother, in their London apartment that they couldn't afford, with their mother breathing down their necks and their older brother sniffing around their doorway for a handout. Would she forget this place if she went back? Would she wake up one day and believe it to be all imagined? Some bought of mental illness or just a mere dream? Would she forget the demons, and angels, and witches, and warlocks, and faun, and ogres, and orcs, and goblins, and werewolves, and weretigers, and vampires, and minotaurs, and cynocephali, and elves, and incubi, and succubi, and all of their unique characteristics and ways? Her neighbours? Her friends? Would she wake up one day and realise that they were human all along? Would they welcome her back if she left them? Naturally, with her head flooded with so many thoughts, her mind didn't have the room to pay attention to where she was going, so her hip bumped into the side of a vendor's stand and snapped her back to reality.

She heard a soft bark coming from inside the stand and looked up, only to lock eyes with the woman who worked there. She was a cynocephallus and she worked the newspaper stand outside of printer's place, selling the Gehenna Times. Once she had Samantha's gaze, she began to sign.

"You alright?" the woman asked.

"Yeah. I wasn't paying attention." Samantha verbalised before checking to see if she knocked anything over briefly before picking up a paper and setting it on the counter. "What's new, today?" she asked, paying attention to the woman at the counter while sticking her hand in her purse to feel around for her wallet to pay.

"More supernaturals flee France and are caught in port towns." the newspaper seller replied.

"What's this?" Samantha questioned, freeing her hand to imitate the word for "France."

The other woman paused. "The place across the water." she said. "The one with cheese."

"France?"

"That's right!" enthusiastically answered the newspaper seller. "HELLSING doesn't appear worried. But also, your friend's brother is apparently going to duel the Irish werewolf leader. Is he alright?"

"What?!" the Westley woman gawked before picking up the paper and flipping through it. While standing there, her eyes darted across the pages, trying to find the article when she heard the other woman bark. The cynocephalus was holding out her hand, glancing down at it before looking at Samantha again.

"Oh, right… Sorry!" Samantha bashfully chuckled, tucking the paper under her arm in an untidy fashion before paying and returning the wallet to her purse. Then, in yet another daze, Miss Westley began walking again, leaving the poor newspaper seller to shake her head in confusion. Samantha had completely forgotten what it was that she wanted to do that day and instead felt the need to return home so that she could figure out what in blazes the cynocephalus was talking about.

She was very surprised to find out the situation. Apparently, Oliver Midford, the second son of a marquis wanted to duel the chieftain for the opportunity to court her. As odd as it was, knowing the Midford family, Samantha found it very easy to believe. Still, it was important that she check the source, as it was apparently very easy to pass off some nonsense as the truth about these families. Despite the news coming from a few of Second-lieutenant Whelan's underlings, she felt it imperative that she call Geraldine.

It seemed like Geraldine was distancing herself from the Westley, lately. She hadn't called in a while and they hadn't gotten together for even longer. Samantha felt as though it might have something to do with that night at the food festival when her ladyship tried to hold her hand, but Samantha shook the thought away and instead opted to treat the woman as she normally would.

"I have a question." Samantha began.

"Shoot." Geraldine replied, acting pleasantly enough.

"Why is your brother in the newspaper for wanting to duel the leader of the faoladh?"

There was no hesitation in the Midford's answer as she did so with an amount of nonchalance that was ordinary for her and her kin, but would be extremely jarring to most others. "Oh, he's got a crush on her, so he's going to duel her so she'll feel alright in accepting a date from him."

"If you have to duel someone for them to go out with you, do they really want to go out with you?"

"It's a 'you had to be there' kind of thing. She seemed down. Her biggest complaint is that he's the son of a marquis and a human… And British. Anyway, she thinks he's super weird for wanting to date a werewolf who's below him in rank, amoung other things."

"Like challenging her to a duel to date him?"

"To other people, maybe. It's just the sort of thing you do, at my house. If you won't duel for the person you care about, do you really care about them all that much?"

"I don't know if I could… I'd probably die..."

"I'd duel for you." Geraldine said, startling the other woman a bit before she seemingly caught herself. "In your stead, I mean..."

Miss Westley hesitated, her cheeks burning a bit as she regained her senses. "How chivalrous~!" she playfully replied at last, prompting the other woman to blush a bit on the other end of the line, herself. "How is practise going, by the way? Have you figured out how to juggle it and school?"

"I'll manage. The Olympics will be easy. It's getting there that's hard."

"'The Olympics will be easy..." Samantha echoed.

"Yeah. Even if I get my ass handed to me, it'll be better than fighting in the nationals. It's too easy… Fighting somebody better than me will be more fun. In the meantime, I think I'll be going to King's College so it's not too far from the school. Dad offered to fly in and coach me, but that sounds like a pain in the ass, so it's easier like this."

"Oh, really? I'll probably go to King's, then."

"Why? Did Oxford fall through?"

"No… I got accepted to pretty much everything."

"Brag..."

Samantha laughed. "I have no idea what to pick. I was leaning toward King's already, but if you're going, then I'll go, too."

"Wait, what?" Geraldine questioned, her tone shifting somewhat. The smile was gone from her words. Her friend couldn't hear it in her voice anymore. "King's is good, but shouldn't you like, go to the best one you can?"

"Yeah, but… I dunno. I just don't want to? I know that it's 'good for my future' and all, but King's is still good. It's the fourth ranked university in the country."

"Did you get into the first?" the Midford questioned, frowning at the silence she was met with. "Well, did you?"

"Yeah..."

"Sam…"

"I don't want to go." Samantha stated. "That's how I want things, okay?"

"You're not… You're not just staying to be close to me and Revy, are you?"

"No… No, it's for Dan and Gehenna, too."

"Dan would want you to go to Cambridge."

"I know."

"Don't not go for other people." Geraldine said rather seriously. "Not for Dan, or me, or anybody else. You need to do what's best for you." There was silence on the other end of the line for a while, causing the Midford to wonder if her friend had hung up. "Sam?"

"I don't want to leave." Miss Westley replied. "If I want to study and document the history of supernaturals, I need to know where the supernaturals are. I have connections here in London, so it's best if I keep them. It might not be as prestigious, but it's probably more valuable, in the long run." Once again, there was silence between them. "Did you think that you and Dan were the only reasons?"

"Uh..." It was strange to hear Geraldine hesitate. She was always so sure and so bold that her voice sounded foreign and strange. "Well… Maybe I jumped the gun a bit..."

"You're not trying to get rid of me, are you?"

"No! Not at all! I just- I just want you to do what's best for you, since you're smart enough to go wherever you want."

"You're smart, too, Gerry..."

"Yeah, but if I want to get into someplace like Oxford or Cambridge, I'll have to use my dad's connections and that's sort of tacky..."

"Pfft-! You made fun of Oliver, but you're just as honour-bound and gentile as he is!"

"Is there any other option?" Geraldine questioned in jest, prompting the two of them to laugh. Soon, however, it quickly died down. "Hey..." she began, reaching up and tangling her fingers into golden locks as she leaned against her arm on her desk. "Do you wanna hang out, sometime?"

"I'd love to." Samantha replied, with a grin. "See you at your brother's duel? Hang out, after?"

"If he doesn't wind up at the hospital, sure."

"Hospital date." Miss Westley jested, only to catch herself. She left it, though, testing the waters to see how the Midford woman would respond. There was a pause. It was much too long for Samantha's taste. A pang of terror shot through her and she felt the aftershocks until her friend spoke again.

"Sure, it's a date!" Geraldine pleasantly answered back with a smile. Satisfied with this, the two of them said their farewells and were left to their own devices, alone with their thoughts. However, both of them had a similar one occur to them.

"It's not really a date, is it? I shouldn't be happy about that. How lame..."

* * *

**A/N: Should I be studying for an art history test? Yes? Am I going to? ...Tomorrow... Or I'll work on an essay... Or something... Really, it should be art history, because I suuuuuuuuck at it~!**

**English? Easiest thing in the world. Everything else? Hmmmmmmmm Perish.**

**Anyway, I'm writing whatever I want at the moment. Going with the flow while I work on figuring out the next arc. Renee should be more important then, but for now, she's just... idk decorating her apartment? How would she do that? Let me know your thoughts. What kind of aesthetic would a girly vampire who likes romance novels be into?**

**I need to "conclude" Oliver and Claire's nonsense, too... And Samantha and Geraldine's... Hopefully, I can do that soon! Maybe? Maybe not. Depends on my mood, really. Also just how the sequence goes. I had other people I wanted to work on, too... Who were they? What did I want them to do? I think I had ideas for Audrey? My black book is full and I need a new one, so I didn't write it down, sadly...**

**Prepare for more disjointed nonsense, my duckies~! I wanna have fun~! I wanna play~!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	36. Trips n' Shit

"Oliver wants to have a duel here, tomorrow. Is that okay?" questioned a certain, eyepatch-wearing demon with his hand pressed to the microphone on the telephone in his hand.

"Huh? Why can't he have it at his house? They have a gym, don't they?" Jim answered, nonchalantly shoving a few documents into the paper shredder underneath the shared section between their desks. "Who's he fighting?"

"Claire Whelan."

"Oh, so he has a deathwish, huh? Yeah, it'll be easier to hose off the concrete out back, wouldn't it?"

"I know you're joking, Jim, but the way you said that so dryly is kind of scary..." Ciel confessed, staring at his beau with a highly skeptical expression. "So you're fine with it?"

"Yeah. It's fine." the menace said somewhat distractedly. His husband hesitated for a moment before relaying the information to his relative.

"It's fine." he said into the phone. "I'm not really sure how you think you're going to win this, but it's fine with us." Some sounds of agreement were made. "Alright. See you then." He hung up and returned to his computer and got back to work. He got through precisely one e-mail and opened another to read, when he heard the sound of a pen snapping in half behind him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as an overwhelming sense of danger coming from his spouse, forcing him to turn around to assess the situation- slowly, as to not provoke the source.

Sitting at his desk, Jim sat, holding two halves of a broken pen between his fingers with a very grim expression on his face. Then, with all of the force of a flash of lightning, he threw both of them up into the air, swinging his head back before slamming both hands down on the desk. _"I don't wanna wooooooork!"_

"Huh?" wide-eyed, Ciel tried to understand what his husband was doing, only to realise that it was nonsense, like usual. It was just a matter of knowing what kind of nonsense, as always.

"I don't wanna work! I've been doing nothing but work forever! I don't wanna work!" Hopelessly, Jim got up and walked around to Ciel's side of the desk before leaning his head on the other man's shoulder from behind. Woefully, he rubbed his forehead into his husband's shirt while whining. "I wanna play! Ciel! We need to do something fun! Please~? I'm tired of working! I'm almost out of willpower! I can't hang on anymore! I'm doing my best, but I wanna play so bad!"

"Yeah, you kinda get into these stretches where you work really hard, don't you?"

"Why does that make me sound like a slacker?"

"You should probably take some time off." Ciel continued, ignoring the observation. "Do you want to go out sometime? Or maybe hang out with Kris?"

"Actually..." Jim began with a pout, lifting his head just so that he could rest his chin on the Watchdog. "I wanted it to be a surprise, but it'll be a pain later if something comes up and I haven't told you…"

"What?"

"Don't plan anything from the twenty-seventh through the weekend. I've arranged a kinda-sorta trip for us."

"Oh, Jimmy..." grinned the bluenette with a laugh, understanding what his beau was up to immediately.

"It's nothing special, really; I just thought it would be… well… kinda romantic, y'know?" the menace somewhat bashfully replied. "Sorry if I ruined it..."

"No, no, it's still a surprise. I still don't know what it is, yet, do I?" Ciel tried to wink, but realised the problem with that very quickly and blushed. "I'll clear my schedule. Is that why you're burning yourself out, lately?"

"I wanna get to a good stopping point so I don't have to think about it… I shouldn't take a break, but..."

"'But?'"

"...I wanna go play now, not later! I wanna go, already! This sucks! Cieeeel~ say something that will motivate me!"

"Well, I don't know if I have anything to say that will do that." the bluenette apologised while clicking around on his computer. "I do think that it's best if you at least take a day to do something fun. Regain your strength so you can make the home stretch, you know? Why don't you come and spectate Oliver's duel, tomorrow?"

"Nah… I'm sick to death of fighting and squabbles for the moment..."

"Jim, earlier this morning you lamented how wonderful it would be to intimidate some random n'er-do-well to get some aggression out of your system..."

"You aren't supporting meee~!" the menace whined, wrapping his arms around Ciel's shoulders. "Cieeel~! I wanna either fight or relax!"

"I'm afraid fighting isn't really an option. Spectating is, but Oliver's not going to let you fight on his behalf."

"There's an idea..."

"He's like me. He's an advocate for honour and such."

"It's only cute when you do it." Jim said surely, nodding like some wiseman who had just dispensed something profound.

"You aren't making this easy, you know..."

"Sorry, baby. I'm just venting. Humour me for a few minutes, and I'll get back to work. You can tune me out, if you want."

"It's alright." Ciel typed in a few words and pressed enter before scrolling down a bit. "In the mean time, how about this?"

Lazily, the blonde turned his gaze to the monitor in front of the both of them. "What?" Blinking, he arched a brow. "A pride parade?"

"It's this weekend. I don't think I remember you ever going to one? Is that something that might interest you?"

"Sure, if Kris and Logan wanna go. Maybe Dan and his man will want to, too?" Jim pondered before pausing. "Aren't you supposed to dress outrageously for those? Do I have anything I'm willing to wear? Maybe Kris has something..."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. I don't really have anything planned for this weekend, so it should be an interesting week. First a duel and then gay pride… I feel like this place is becoming steadily more ridiculous as time goes on..."

"You're going?" questioned the menace, raising his brows.

"Do you not want me to?"

"No, no! It's just that it doesn't seem like the sort of thing you'd be into! You never want to go to the club with us, so..."

"Jim, clubs are loud and full of drunk people who are up to no good. They're obnoxious and participation is expected. A parade is a parade, though. You stand by and watch. Besides, I should go at least once, shouldn't I?"

"I'm just imagining you among drag queens..."

"Jim… You were in a maid outfit when we first met… And I helped you into yet another maid outfit during the school festival. I'm friends with Kris. I am unvexed by crossdressing shenanigans at this point."

"It's a little different."

"They wear dresses and are rather loud, so no, not really."

An abrupt puff of air escaped Jim's mouth, spraying spit at Ciel's computer monitor as he tried to stop it. He stood upright, keeping his hands on the Watchdog's shoulders as he gave up and laughed. "That's harsh! But accurate, I guess! You should dress up, too! Wear your colours!"

"I will wear a suit with a tie and that's it."

"Bi pride tie. Do they make those? Google it real quick."

"Jim..."

"We should coordinate so we can be one of those cute couples that match!"

"If you say so, dear..."

* * *

**A/N: Guess who is behind? It me~! I had a massive test last week and I'm still frazzled... Will I recover? Anyway, so that's why this chapter is both short and uneventful. **

**Enjoy your trash, heathens. **

**g2g i have to finish a paper lov u**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	37. Sleight Of Hand

The morning was tense as Claire and Oliver's plans for the day were prepared for. Claire decided that since she was dealing with a mere human, that she wouldn't have any sort of need for much. Just a tunic and some trousers. Truth be told, she was even reluctant to bother bringing her sword, knowing that she could easily just snap him in half with her bare hands. More pressingly, however, was how she observed her opponent getting ready.

Oliver just sat there, at the table, having breakfast like he would any other day. The man didn't seem to have a care in the world and certainly didn't seem like a person who was about to go toe to toe with a werewolf in a matter of hours. Shouldn't he be doing something? Does he not have any armour? Should he pray? Did protestants pray before big events? She wasn't sure. All she was sure of was that either the Midford was a madman or a moron. She stared at him for a very long time. He was aware of it, but didn't mind. He found it amusing, so he allowed it and continued to eat his eggs.

Then, he finally stood up, dusted the crumbs from his hands down the front of his shirt, and walked out of the room to get ready, leaving the woman dumbfounded. He wasn't really sure what to wear to a duel, so he wore some rather ordinary-looking athleticwear before having his sister help strap the scabbard of his sword and the holster of his pistol securely at his waist. With his teeth, he pulled on a single black, leather glove.

"So..." Gerladine began, unsure of how to being.

"So?"

"How exactly are you going to win this?" questioned the younger Midford. "Are you even planning on winning this? Mum and dad are going mental over how insane this is."

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve." Oliver nodded with a slight smirk. "If my elaborate and very impressive calculations are right, and I also don't fuck up, it should be fine. I don't think she'll kill or maim me, so even if it doesn't go as planned, I'll be okay."

"Oliver, she cut off your arm..."

"Yeah, but that was before we became friends. You can't let something as little as losing an arm get in the way of a relationship."

"Suddenly, Ciel's relationship seems a lot more sensible to me than usual." Geraldine stated before taking her hands off her brother's belt. "You're fucking nuts, you know that? Out of all of the girls you could go for, you pick her?"

"She's interesting and strong. I like her! At least I have enough game to shoot my shot instead of waiting around for a golden opportunity that may or may not happen." Oliver grinned as his sister glared at him. He knew he had struck a nerve and that was precisely why he said it. "What are you so scared of, anyway? That she'll say 'no?' That you'll ruin the friendship?"

"I'm not a nutcase who thinks that dueling is a viable opportunity to get things done."

"Yeah, but that's because your crush is brainy and can't fight. If she could fight, you'd be pumped to fight her."

Geraldine rolled her eyes, much to the other man's continued amusement. "Focus on your own damn self so you don't get killed. You're so fucking stupid… Why the hell do you have to duel her?"

"Because she'd refuse otherwise." Oliver paused as his sister looked at him, silently conveying to him just how creepy that sounded. Quickly, he corrected himself. "I mean, she's indicated interest, but feels bad about pursuing it because she cut off my arm."

"You're insane." Geraldine stated.

"I'm a man."

"That's what I just said."

Oliver shook his head. "Joke all you want. I will win. Just you wait and see."

"And this is why men don't live as long as women."

"Did you start hating men before or after you realised you're gay?"

"I don't hate men. I just have little reason to be patient with them. You're my brother, so I'm being nice to you. You're still a fucking idiot."

No matter how the woman protested and tried to convince him otherwise, they were all still loaded up into the car and driven to the Phantomhive estate in perhaps the most tense, uncomfortable, and deafeningly silent ride in human history. Oliver looked straight ahead with a grin on his face while Claire looked out the window, conspicuously avoiding the eyes of the man's horrified family. The arrival at the Phantomhive home did not improve things.

They were greeted as per usual by the family butler and escorted inside. They were asked if they required anything before their fight and both parties said "no." Thus, they were lead through the house and out the back door. After a short trip through the lush garden of the estate and off to the left, they came across a freshly swept concrete ring. It was just a flat slab to fight on, seeing as the Phantomhive demons could get far too destructive for indoors when sparring. There wasn't much decoration, as nice as that would have been. Plants were too fragile, and stone would be used as weapons, as would any water feature they installed. Even the ground had heads smashed into it at times, hence the occasional crack and crater that needed paving over at some point. They hadn't gotten around to it. Thus, it was one of the more puzzling features to the estate, had it been happened upon by an outsider. There were a few stone benches off to the side to take breaks on and it was one of the only rules when fighting that they were not to be used as weapons. It became a nuisance, replacing them so frequently.

On those benches sat a few of the other guests, like some of the faoladh under Claire's command. They were in good spirits, eager to see their leader put this human fool in his place, as they gazed upon him with great scrutiny. How dare he proposition Claire Whelan? How arrogant and idiotic! Joining them were the Phantomhives, of course, sans Luka and Revy, as they both had school and work to attend to, respectively. On a bench beside the duo was Miss Samantha Westley, who smiled at Geraldine. She got up with the Phantomhives to greet the Midfords.

"You're a bit late." Ciel pointed out to his relatives, standing out of the way so that Samantha can walk over to her friend. "I was beginning to wonder why I let all of these people onto my property."

"I'm sorry, I drove slowly..." Rupert replied, sighing as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Understandable. Don't worry. Everything will be fine." Ciel reassured with a small smile.

"Yeah! If they get too rough, we'll step in." Added Jim with a thumb pointed at his chest. "No maiming. No killing. Just a good, clean, tussle."

"I sure hope so..." Rupert said, rubbing his forehead. Lowering his voice, he leaned in a bit closer to whisper. "He only has one arm left as it is and he refuses the prosthetic! Look out for him, alright?"

Blinking, the demons somewhat hesitantly nodded, wondering if the man's son could hear him from his place just a little ways away. Oliver knew how his father felt about the situation. It annoyed him, just as the marquis' concern always did. First it was joining HELLSING instead of the regular army, then it was losing his arm, then it was not wanting a mechanical replacement, and now it was his choice in what woman he wished to pursue. Oliver said nothing, but his expression faltered for a bit before he resumed his grin. He couldn't afford to be brought down by anyone before his fight had even started. Sitting off to the side, his sister whispered to her own friend about how worried she was, although it was significantly less harsh.

"I don't get why he's into her, but at least he could ask her out like a normal person." Geraldine lamented. "As much as I like dueling, even I can't beat a werewolf. It's just not possible!"

"Brothers are an enigma that may never be understood." Samantha noted. "Mine seems to think I don't notice him staying over at his boyfriend's place all the time. It's dumb."

"Men are idiots..."

"Yeah..."

"...It's a good thing I'm not next in line. Being expected to marry one sounds like a pain in the ass."

"Ye-yeah..." Miss Westley accidentally stuttered, not looking in her friend's direction in a futile attempt to hide her blush. Quietly, her friend observed her, following her line of sight until it landed on the other combatant. Claire stood stood idle with her arms crossed as she waited for the fight to start, oblivious to the existence of either Samantha or Geraldine, but regardless, the Midford woman frowned.

"She's very muscular, isn't she?" she more pointed out than asked.

"What?" Samantha asked, snapping from her daze.

"She's in great shape." Geraldine reiterated. "You don't like guys, but do you still like muscles or something?"

"What?" Miss Westley asked again, following Geraldine's gaze, now, to see what on earth she was talking about. A puff of air escaped her as she realised what her friend was insinuating. "No. Well- I mean, I like athletic girls, I guess, but she seems a bit too hardcore for me."

"Thicc arms, though."

"Too thicc, maybe? I'm not interested. The sword thing is cool, but… uh… yeah. Not into her, specifically."

"Hmm..." her friend obviously didn't sound convinced, but did her best to consider it. The more Geraldine thought about it, however, the more she felt as though the description fit her, as well. She's an athlete, she's toned, and she uses swords. The thought made her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, which she covered by resting her chin in her palm and her elbow on her knee. "That right..."

There was a pause. "Actually..." Samantha began, reaching up to rub her cheek. It was hot. It wasn't due to the weather, either. "Uh… There's a gazebo in the garden. It's really pretty, since everything's bloomed. If there's time before you have to leave… Do you want to hang out there for a bit?"

The Midford's eyebrows were raised as she blinked at the other woman. She lifted her chin out of her hand and sat up a little straighter while fiddling with her fingers. "Sure." she said. Her tone was surprised, but not at all unenthusiastic. It was a short conversation and one that got buried in the chatter of the crowd who was too focused on the thrill of combat to notice, but demons have very sharp ears. The corners of Sir Phantomhive's mouth turned upwards slightly and a twinkle appeared in his eyes.

"After the fight, let's all have some tea inside." the menace suggested to Rupert and the others.

"It's a nice day. Wouldn't it be better to have it outside?" the marquis questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes, the gazebo is pretty much perfect on a nice day like thi-" Ciel was cut off as his husband slightly elbowed him in the rib.

"That's true, but we were in such a rush to get the ring swept, that we didn't really have time to tend to other sitting areas in the garden." Jim lied. "It would be a shame to stain your suit! Ciel, do you know if everyone's here?"

"I think so." confusedly answered the bluenette. He caught on to the fact that his husband didn't want anyone at the gazebo, but trusted Jim to let him know why as soon as he could, as the poor Watchdog was baffled and wondered just what he had missed.

"Well!" Jim punctuated the word with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Right..." the Watchdog nodded, turning before walking up onto the concrete slab. He stood with insurmountable authority, garnering the attention of everyone there just by looking out at the crowd. One by one, everyone stopped to listen, their curiosity at his gesture getting the better of them and pulling them from their respective conversations.

"Will the combatants step into the ring, please?" The Phantomhive asked it like it was a request, but it came out as an order. Old habits really do die hard, one can suppose, but it did work in getting everyone a bit more excited.

Claire and Oliver stepped up onto the concrete and stood on either side of Ciel, both at complete polar opposite ends in regards to attitude toward the fight, as well. "Take ten paces back." Ciel ordered, continuing his instructions as they followed suit. "The duel between Oliver Midford and Claire Whelan is about to commence. Do to the nature of this fight, however, there are a few rules. There will be no attacks that will end the life of a combatant or permanently injure them. Any attempt to do so will be halted by Jim, Sebastian, or myself." he declared, pointing at each demon as he listed them. Everyone knew who the rule was actually for. It wasn't as though Oliver were capable of severely injuring Claire, especially with the other rules in place.

"Each combatant will be allowed to use their fists, but are also permitted to use an ordinary sword and an ordinary pistol. No anti-freak weapons are permitted. Both, however, have passed their checks, and therefore, on my mark, the fight may commence!" Ciel stepped back out of the pair's way before raising a hand up into the air. "On the count of ten..."

"One..." both fighters chanted, counting downwards. "Two..." Oliver's stance widened. "Three..." He made sure that both feet were firmly planted on the ground. "Four..." He reached for his sword and gripped the handle tightly. "Five..."

Oh, that was odd. Although Claire didn't take his posturing seriously, she could tell that something in his eyes had changed. They counted down and his gaze became more and more ferocious.

"Ten!"

Claire was eager to end this first. She moved quickly, closing the gap between them, as she was determined to grant the Midford the dignity of losing a mismatched battle that was not drawn out so he didn't embarrass himself. Of course, she wouldn't actually hurt him. She already saw the route she was going to take. If she could throw him out of the arena, he would escape with only a few scratches, at best. Oliver drew his sword. It was a plain one, so she could just grab it and yank it out of his hand. But then, as she closed in, he did the unthinkable.

Oliver threw his sword at her. Her eyes widened and she jumped out of the way, turning her head as she landed so that she could watch the weapon hit the ground with a horrible clatter. She heard a voice. Several voices. Her team? Then, she heard the high-pitched sound scream at the side of her head before it collided and turned everything black.

Her blood hit the ground first as it sprayed into the air, only to be joined by her body in a hollow thud. Naturally, as a werewolf, this was not a life threatening injury, but it would take her a while to regenerate. Indeed, the match ended quickly, but with Oliver still standing with his pistol in hand, resting in the pit of his elbow for support. Then, without much of a fuss, he relaxed his stance and holstered his weapon before turning and waiting for the verdict.

The crowd was completely silent. His family was shocked. The faoladh were shocked. Even the demons had to pause and take in what had just happened. Claire Whelan, who was a trained soldier, who was proficient in killing and was the most fearsome fighter of her clan had just been defeated in a matter of moments by a mere human- a human with one hand, no less! It was unthinkable, but there it was. After a while, however, after the situation had sunk in, a smile crawled across Jim's face and he held up his hand.

"Victory goes to Oliver Midford!" he declared. "Holy fuck, that was incredible!"

After a moment of hesitation, the faoladh jogged into the ring in order to check on their leader. Helping her up, they saw signs of regeneration and breathed a collective sigh of relief. Although, they did give Oliver some rather nasty looks, but the man only smiled and offered a wave as the Phantomhives joined the werewolves and told them where they could bring her to recover. Some of the faoladh looked as though they wanted to fight, but with the demons there, it wasn't a possibility. Picking Claire up, they carried her through the trees and toward the house, leaving the Midfords to trail behind. They followed behind Oliver, still reeling from what just happened.

"I have to admit, son, that was… something." his father finally came out with.

"I know you didn't think I would win. It's alright. I was counting on being underestimated. If she didn't hold back, she would've won much quicker."

"That's-!" Rupert cut himself short and sighed. "That's… clever, but how did you know that would happen?"

"I didn't. I just trusted it would." Oliver bluntly answered.

"Ollie, you can't be that reckless! You can't just go blindly trusting people like that!"

"It wasn't. I know Claire. It was perfectly reasonable. Could you please not use a disability as a negative, by the way? My date just so happens to be blind in one eye."

"I don't understand what you see in that girl…" shook the marquis. "All of this trouble for a girl who- well, you know..."

"I do." Oliver stated, before stopping. He turned to face his father with a carefree expression. It didn't match his words at all. "One of these days, Dad, you need to get over how I choose to live my life. I don't regret not joining the army. I still like working at HELLSING and I like Claire."

"But Oliver, your arm!"

"I've already mourned the loss of it. You're allowed to, too, but there comes a time when you have to move on. It's not coming back and hating Claire won't bring it back. Besides, what's an arm or two? I've still got my head and I've still got a lot of good stuff going for me."

Rupert furrowed his brow. With his eyes still fixed on his son, he spoke to his daughter. "Geraldine, you and your mother should go on ahead. I need to talk to Oliver."

"Uh..." the woman hesitated, looking to her father and then to her brother with an uncharacteristically uncertain expression. She waited until she saw Oliver nod at her before moving. "Alright..." She moved forward with her mother and her friend, putting an arm around the latter to usher her out of the woods faster while Rupert and Oliver talked.

The younger Midford man's smile faded and a rather serious expression overtook him as he waited to hear what his father had to say. He expected something he wasn't going to like. Some scolding. Some insistence that he knew what was best and Oliver didn't. The marquis looked his son in the eye, matching his intensity, but then, in a matter of seconds, his expression faded as his eyes grew wet.

"Ollie..." Rupert whimpered, catching the other man off guard. Holding out his arms, he lunged at Oliver wrapping his arms around his son with deadly force before the younger man could react.

"Dad!" Oliver choked. "My spine! My arm is one thing, but I kind of need that!"

"I'm sorry..." answered the marquis, letting up his grip a bit. "I had no idea you felt that way… You're my baby, you know. You, and Gerry, and James are all my babies, and I just want what's best for you… and to know you're safe..."

"I'm fine, I'm fine! I keep telling you, I'm alright." his son replied, finally cracking a bit of a smile.

"Boo hoo… boo… boo hoo..."

"You cry weird..."

"I can't help it! I was so scared when you got hurt! And I don't understand how you can forgive the woman who did that to you so easily!"

"She can barely forgive herself, at times, it seems..."

"I couldn't stand it..." Quietly, Rupert rested his head on his son's shoulder.

"Dad?"

"When I heard you lost your arm… It felt like the world was falling apart. I'm not supposed to outlive my children, but then… Then, it seemed too possible… I was so scared, I didn't know what to do… For the first time, it really hit me that you-" Pulling away, the man cupped his son's cheeks. "I don't ever want to have to think of burying my child ever again."

"Dad..." Oliver could imagine it. He could imagine his father fretting over it- staying awake at night so that he didn't have to dream about seeing his children in caskets and feeling guilty for pushing them into fields where violence was to be expected. His eldest was in the army. His middle child was a member of a private military company. His youngest was a professional sword-fighter. Was it his fault? Of course not. Their surroundings helped shape them, of course, but Rupert was supportive of his children, even if he didn't particularly agree with their paths. Seeing the fear in his father's eyes as he spoke to him, however, Oliver understood and his own concern amassed. It was rare to see his happy-go-lucky father so terrified. "It's okay."

Warmly, Rupert smiled, letting go of the other man, only to turn him around and wrap an arm over his shoulders. "Come on." he said, leading Oliver away. "Let's go inside. It would be in extremely bad taste if you weren't there when Miss Whelan regenerates."

"Second-Lieutenant Whelan." Oliver corrected.

"Oh! My apologies! She was promoted fast…"

* * *

**A/N: My flashdrive is dying. I just got it? The fuck? I was able to switch everything over, fortunately, but it's still a pain... ****My new one is named after Sans from Undertale? I don't know anything about Undertale. It was just the first thing to pop into my head. (It's blue)**

**What else...**

**Oliver... is a lot... He's kind of a ridiculous person? Why is everyone in this family so ridiculous? Is it genetic? Is it a curse? Who knows... **

**Important note, by the way: This becomes more ridiculous when you realise that he shot with his left hand. He is not left-handed. He is also not ambi-dexterous like Jim. What the fuck.**

**Also, what's with this family and literally fighting their loved ones? If they can't wrassle, they aren't interested, it seems. Except Geraldine, maybe, but she appears to be one of the only ones who isn't kind of a dweeb.**

**I wanna play around a while longer. I feel like it's kind of a let down, though? Like, we need some senseless violence or else we'll lose our spark? But also... I wanna write dumb shit. Really bad. **

**I have a serious arc in the works, but I'm still ironing out a few details. For now, it's just easy-sailing, I guess. Let me know what you think about that or if you have any ideas for the things I've already set up for. **

**Will the bootyshorts return for pride? Debatable.**

**Will Renee ever learn how to interact with other people appropriately? Who knows.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	38. Reset

The Phantomhive and Midford families stood around inside the house along with some of Claire's rather-displeased-looking underlings. They were a rough-looking bunch, but the Phantomhives didn't seem to terribly concerned by them touching everything. Geraldine tried her best not to stare as one sniffed a table before boldly proclaiming it to be made of mahogany. One of the faoladh's compatriot's bonked her on the head and informed her that all they could smell was lemon-scented cleaner. Oliver received nasty looks from them, but would not be discouraged. Geraldine had to admire him for that, she supposed, although she did find all of this somewhat suspect.

She was more interested in sorting out her own business to give it much thought. Her eyes scanned the crowd, but she couldn't find Samantha anymore. Last time Geraldine did, she noticed Miss Westley talking to Sir Jim, but after that, she hadn't a clue. Luckily, the man approached her, even going so far as to beat her to her own question with an answer.

"Hey, I asked Sam to find something I left out at the gazebo for me." He said with a wink. "Mind going to check on her? She might need some help."

"Uh, sure..." A light blush appeared on Geraldine's cheeks as she left her position. Had he asked normally, she wouldn't have suspected he knew anything, but with the wink? He definitely heard her make plans to go meet Samantha. Worse, still, he also had an inkling as to what her intentions were when they both got there. All the same, he was trying to help her and gave her an excuse to be alone with Miss Westley, so she had to find a way to thank him, later.

Exiting the small, family get-together, she walked outside into the garden and was immediately smacked in the face by the overwhelming scent of flowers. It was beautiful, though- not at all something that one would think to find in the backyard of eccentric assassins, but the lord of the house was a traditional sort of man who felt that mansions had to have gardens if they were worth anything at all and he wasn't going to be some shabby sod who didn't take care of his house! The Midfords had one too, though. At Geraldine's house, the garden was mostly green, so this was a bit of a novelty to her. Even the gazebo was full of life, with vines growing throughout it in a surprisingly orderly manner, sporting flowers for one to look at while having tea there. Samantha was seated at one of the tables, staring at what appeared to be a rubik's cube on the table with a puzzled look on her face. Her expression improved immediately, however, after she noticed Geraldine walking up to her.

"Hey!" she grinned with a small wave. "I didn't know if you were coming!"

"I had to get away from everybody." Geraldine replied as her sneakers stepped from stone pathway to wooden steps. "Jim sent me to find you. He said he asked you to look for something?"

"All I could find was this rubik's cube and I'm not really sure if he's the type to have one..." Samantha said. "He must've heard us talking, earlier."

"How kind of him."

"A real gentleman."

It was quiet. Despite the fact that they were best friends and could typically fine conversation in anything, neither of them could find any words. They each knew what they wanted to say, but felt awkward in saying it. The entire atmosphere felt awkward. The area around them was beautiful, but there were no words between them to match. They were clumsy and the two of the cringed at how obvious it was. Still, both of them had plans and knew that the people around them were right. Oliver, Daniel, and Kyung-Soon all gave the two of them the same advice: nothing will change between them unless they do something. The scary part about that, however, was the fear that change could come in the form of the two of them being awkward around one another forever and neither of them wanted that. Right there and right then, they had to make a decision. Either they would try to change things or allow them to remain the same. There weren't any other options, really, and this was as good of a time and place as either of them thought they were going to get.

"Uhm-" the two of them said at once, cutting one another off before hesitating. They blinked.

"Go ahead." Samantha continued.

"No, no, after you."

"I- Uh..." Miss Westley hesitated, calculating the worst-case scenario in an instant. Although Geraldine is perhaps the roughest and most blunt of the Midfords if she didn't like something, she was only cruel to people who were cruel to her. She, like her relatives, was gentile. She was a gentlewoman to Oliver's gentleman. Should she not respond affirmatively to Samantha's question, then she would reject the suggestion it politely. They were friends, after all. That granted Miss Westley some amount of reassurance and allowed her to gather the courage she did. Taking a deep breath, she thought about talking for a moment and then sighed.

"Ah, this sucks..." she said, sitting back down while shaking her head. "I don't know how to make words sound good in real life. I can only do it on paper! I'm going to sound really, really, lame..."

"Not really. You rant about books all the time and sound smart. I don't know what you're talking about a lot of the time, but still." Geraldine answered before pausing. "That's not helping, is it?"

Samantha laughed. "Not really, no. Good try, though."

"I aim to please." the Midford cringed internally at the words that escaped from her own mouth, but they were out in the open, now, so she had to commit and hope they came across as charming.

"Well, I guess I'll just… get it over with? I could like, wax poetic about it forever, but I feel like that would be awkward, so, do you want to, like, go on a date with me, sometime? Like, a date-date, not a gal-pal situation?"

Samantha did her best to remain casual, but almost lost it when she saw the other woman raise her eyebrows with cheeks growing redder by the second. A small smile spread across Geraldine's face as she thoughtlessly rocked on her feet. She placed a hand on the table beside Samantha and leaned against it. "I'd like that." the Midford answered, simultaneously ecstatic that the other woman asked and relieved that she, herself, didn't have to.

"Alright!" Samantha paused. "So… what now? Do we, like, shake on it?"

"Do you want to hold hands?" boldly questioned Geraldine, immediately seizing the opportunity, although perhaps with a bit more vigor than absolutely necessary. The inquiry made Mis Westley stop again and blink.

"Yes." And so it was. Samantha and Geraldine were officially an item, although no one knew that yet, save for a particularly nosy demon, but he wasn't going to say anything until they were ready. Jim did hope that they remembered to bring his rubiks cube back inside, however, and that was all.

* * *

**A/N: Short, but gets the message across, I think. There really is no graceful way to go about this, I don't think lmao. "Hey, you wanna go out, or...?" is about all that can be said, sometimes.**

**We support Jock/Nerd relationships, here at DLTD.**

**I don't have anything else to comment on. **

**k bye**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	39. Out In The Open

"Do you think the tanktop, or the jersey?" Jim questioned, holding up each garment against himself so that his husband could see. The first was a tanktop with a rainbow lion's head wearing sunglasses and the latter was the baseball jersey he wore when competing against his husband in Gehenna some time ago.

"Well, it is pride, so the tanktop's more appropriate, I think." Ciel replied, although he wasn't quite sure as to what one wore to this sort of event, himself. He had never been before, but on this day, the whole family was going to head out and take in the sights. "Aren't you going to get cold, though?"

"Nah. It's summer and the weather said it's going to be sunny, so I should be fine." The menace put the rejected shirt back into the wardrobe before removing the victor from the hanger. "You're wearing a polo shirt, so what about you?"

"I think I want to wear something over it."

"It should be fine, though? Simpler is better."

"Do you think my arms stand out?" questioned the bluenette, prompting Jim to turn around after pulling his shirt over his head. Ciel held out his arms, showing off the various scars that covered them, even rotating his right bicep to show the one where his arm was reattached after being hit by a train. It peeked out of the sleeve of his shirt so wasn't the most prominent scar had, but still, he worried that other people would notice. Jim, however, smiled at his husband, paying attention to how cute he looked instead of pondering about what other people could potentially think.

His smile was wide as he stepped forward, immediately wanting to embrace his spouse. "You look cute!" Jim declared. "So cute! You look great in preppy clothes!"

A light blush appeared on the other man's face as he pouted. "That's not what I asked..."

"I mean, yeah, they stand out, but only because you never wear short sleeves. You've got really sexy arms and shoulders, you know. Did you know that? You should know that. This shirt hugs you in all the right places. It's a great fit." The menace pulled away in order to squeeze the other man in various places, starting with the biceps, moving to the shoulders, and ending at the pecs before resting on Ciel's hips. "Truly, I am not worthy."

Immediately, Ciel's eyes moved from Jim's exposed collar bones, to his shoulders and arms before venturing lower. The blonde was wearing a pair of black shorts that ended just below his mid-thigh. "You definitely are." Ciel answered with pinkend cheeks.

Jim straightened the collar of the light blue polo shirt his husband was wearing before giving him another look up and down. "I think they actually improve it." he nodded sagely. "When you put on the glasses and watch, they make you look polished, but also like you could also bust someone's kneecaps if it came down to it. Like, 'yeah, I'm gonna win this golf tournament,_ or else.'"_

"Is that a good thing?"

"Well, I'm not gonna be into a guy who wastes all his time at the country club, now, am I? I like it, but, if you're really uncomfortable, I can tie a cardigan around your shoulders just in case you want it."

"That would be nice, thank you."

"Put on the accessories while I pick one out. I wanna see it with it all on."

Doing what he was told, Ciel tightly fastened the leather straps of his far-too-expensive-to-be-acceptable watch around his wrist before slipping on a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses. The sun would be out, anyway, and this way, he didn't need to wear his eyepatch, although he would bring one with him, just in case. He stood still while Jim loosely tied the sleeves of the cardigan around his shoulders for him and waited for the man's response as he stood back and pondered. Ciel did his best to keep from letting the corner of his mouth tilt upwards as he watched his spouse immediately grin.

"_Oh, no, he's hot!_" Jim declared, playfully pretending to shield his eyes before quickly lowering them so he could continue to oogle the Earl. "My preppy puppy~! Seriously, there's no way I'm gonna be able to keep from touching your arms and shoulders, today. I hope you know that."

"I sort of figured." Ciel answered with a half-smile and a shrug. "Isn't it sort of expected at pride? If you didn't cling to me, I would be suspicious."

"What about me? Is my outfit alright?" Jim's question made Ciel stop in his tracks. It's like the bluenette's train of thought came to a complete, screeching halt as he eyed the menace up and down.

_"__It's nice." _

"Boo, try again."

_"__It's really nice..."_ Ciel reiterated. "For reasons I believe are obvious."

"Clearly, they aren't, for I simply don't know what you're talking about, Ciel. Please explain in elaborate detail."

"You're very attractive. Your arms are nicely toned and you have nice collarbones." Had they not had somewhere to be, Ciel had an idea or two as to what he could do to those collarbones, and on a similar note, the blonde's neck. Jim already knew that, though. The Earl could tell by the mischievous look on his face as he rubbed his neck. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, Ciel didn't feel safe from his husband knowing exactly where his eyes were lingering.

"Anything else?" the menace sweetly asked, prompting Ciel's lips to form a thin line as he did his best to will himself not to look down. Even if Jim couldn't see where Ciel's eyes were, the Watchdog felt as though looking would mean that his husband somehow "won." He had to turn the tables on the blonde, somehow.

"Is there something else you had in mind?" Ciel questioned in response.

"You're no fun…" Jim pouted. "Here my thighs are, just hanging out, and you've got nothin' to say? Not even gonna try to give 'em a little squeeze? I'm shocked… Is it the short length? Should I dust off the skimpier ones?"

"Those wouldn't even fit you anymore, will they?"

"True. I'm too thicc."

"Please speak English..."

"I'm too bootylicious and my thighs simply will not quit. It's a curse, I tell ya..."

"They're also too short because you haven't worn them since you were in secondary school. You should really give them away."

"This is the thanks I get for showing the goods? Fine, maybe I ought to just put them away!"

"They're very nice, but I can't do much with them inconspicuously while we're out and about..." Ciel sighed, pinching the area between his brows. "I appreciate your thighs."

Grasping the bottom of his shorts leg, Jim pulled it up to expose more of his leg. "You can't hide… your love of thighs… recognise… the power of thigh… my guy."

"If you're going to be like this all day, then perhaps we should just stay home..."

"I'll be good! I promise!" Jim was obviously excited. He still didn't know quite what to expect, but was still looking forward to the outing. The rest of the family was going, but they would also be meeting Daniel, his boyfriend, what's-his-face, and Kris and Logan, too. They didn't know if anyone else would be there, but it was possible. Jim was eager to get in the car and get going.

Sebastian drove, knowing that if Luka got bored, he could always venture elsewhere with him if he needed to while waiting on everyone else. Then again, since Luka was older, now, that might not happen. It must be pretty boring to go with a bunch of adults, though, so it was best to be sure. Besides, the masters of the house appeared busy with holding one another's hands, so they couldn't be bothered, really.

It took ages to find parking. Far too long for any of their tastes and they had to walk a long distance to get to the street where the parade was being held. They tried to get there early to avoid this, but it seemed that everyone else had the same idea. The street was already packed. People spilled out from off of the sidewalk, since the parade hadn't started yet, and waited until they did.

Many perused the various booths that vendors had set up to peddle their wares. It was a good idea, Ciel thought. People would want to buy things to decorate themselves with and to have fun with during the day. He needed to remember that for next year. FUNTOM changed their twitter logo to a rainbow flag and put out a few specialty products, but he knew they could go further. The Watchdog was snapped from his nefarious plotting as he was dragged to one such booth by his husband as he followed Luka and Finny. They were eager to get in on the fun and Jim wasn't about to be outdone at pride by a couple of heterosexuals.

The stall was a mess of colours. Luka and Finny immediately started touching everything, much to the obvious suspicion of the woman running the stall. Even she had bright-coloured hair and a mess of similarly vibrant buttons on her jean vest- with a particular interest in what Ciel read as the suffragette flag. Must be an old-school feminist. He could respect that. Ciel didn't quite know what to think of her. The amount of piercings she possessed made him a little bit worried, although he was a man who ordinarily walked around with an eyepatch, so he supposed he couldn't really talk. Instead, he turned his focus to the various bits and bobs she was selling. T-shirts, badges, posters, and of course, flags—more flags than Ciel could name. He didn't really get it, but Jim seemed knowledgable enough, so he let him do the talking.

"What's that one?" Luka questioned, pointing to a pink, white, and blue flag peeking out of the holder mixed in with a bunch of others.

"That's the trans flag." Jim answered.

"What about that one?"

"The nonbinary flag."

"The pink one?"

"That's the lesbian flag."

"What?" Ciel asked, arching his brow. That was one he knew! Maybe Jim wasn't an expert, after all. Thus, to help his beau save face in the future, Ciel decided it would be kinder to correct him now rather than let him make the mistake in a worse setting. "No, the lesbian flag is purple."

"It was, but they changed it."

"To that pink mess? That doesn't suit the lesbians I know." the Watchdog said.

"The lesbians you know are all military and butch."

"Not Miss Park. She's femme."

"She's also the leader of a gang." Jim stopped to turn his head and address the person running the booth, handing them money. "We'll take a couple of those flags and these buttons, please." Baffled, the vendor took the money and counted it, all while keeping a close eye on the bizarre group.

"Here..." Turning to face his husband, Jim reached up and pinned a small, somewhat discreet button that would probably look better as a lapel pin onto Ciel's chest. It was pink on top, purple in the middle, and blue on bottom. "This one's yours."

"Well, thank you, dear..." Ciel replied, stranding at ease with his hands behind his back and his chin parallel to the ground. He wore a very serious expression on his face with a hint of blush on his cheeks as he allowed his spouse to finish tampering with his appearance. Once Jim took his hands away, the Watchdog moved to offer him his arm, which was accepted and the group moved on. Jim offered the vendor at the booth a small wave as they left, prompting them to narrow their eyes and nod before giving him a thumbs up.

Jim's smile was wide as he clung to his spouse, practically beaming as their bare arms touched in public. His husband did not wear short sleeves very often outside of the home, so he was savouring every bit of it to the point of almost flaunting him, despite most everyone else being occupied with their own business. Others in their group, however, noticed very clearly.

"Why does he have to do that?" Luka asked in a hushed tone, calling the attention of Revy, his second-oldest brother. A light blush was on his face as he was at the age where he was starting to become very aware of the nature of romantic relationships. "Isn't holding hands good enough?"

"It's not that big of a deal." Revy replied, having grown accustomed to such hijinks years ago. He was at the age where he and the menace actually looked very much alike. They technically could be called twins, which was simply another thing that Revy had gotten used to, as much as it bothered him at first. "If there's ever a time where he's allowed to be a little lovey-dovey, this is probably it."

"It's not about the 'gay' thing..." mumbled the lad, warranting a moment of pause.

"It's the 'brother' thing, isn't it?" questioned the revenant, prompting his sibling to groan. From the look on the boy's face, Revy knew he was absolutely correct. "Well, adults do stuff like that. It's no use fussing over, really. Just try not to think about it."

"I'm not trying to!"

"There, there… this is a difficult time for you…" Revy snickered while patting Luka on the back, only to struggle to hold back even more laughter when his sibling shook him off.

"Ugh! Shut up! Why are you so annoying?"

"Because puberty."

"Piss off!"

"Luka, language." Sebastian warned from a few paces behind them, prompting Luka to glance over his shoulder. The boy couldn't spot Sebastian in the crowd right away since he was out of uniform and wearing casual clothes, but he still made eye contact and frowned.

"What about you, Revy?" questioned Finnian.

"What about me?"

"Are you… _something_, too?" The gardener didn't quite know what the right phrasing was, but he tried his best. He knew that asking if someone was vaguely "like that" sounded dodgy, so he made up his own term.

"Oh. I dunno." Revy shrugged. "I used to wonder if I would be gay like Jim, and then I kinda identified as asexual, but I dunno, really. For now, at least, ace is comfortable, so I'm sticking with it. I just don't think it's really worth worrying about, right now."

"Hmmm..." Luka hummed at that, seeming somewhat skeptical. Jim seemed to know for a very long time- when he was way younger than Revy, so the youngest of the Macken siblings wasn't really certain as to how that worked, but wasn't really going to argue against it. Revy seemed sincere, after all, so Luka was inclined to believe him. At least he didn't have to worry about two brothers hanging all over people they also do stuff with that Luka really didn't want to acknowledge.

It wasn't the "gay" part that squicked him. That was completely ordinary. It was the "brother" part. He realised it a while ago and now sometimes, something would happen that reminded Luka of this simple fact of life and it made him want to crawl into a hole and die.

While the duo would not stop hanging onto one another and holding hands, their attention soon focused elsewhere to a food stall down the street. Specifically, they focused on a rather muscular man walking away from it, as he was truly a sight to behold. Massive heels were on his feet and his legs were covered by a long, flowing, black skirt. A matching pseudo-corset cinched his waist, making it appear smaller, and the floppy black hat with the wide brim and Hollywood-esque sunglasses made him look like a trophy wife showing up to her husband's funeral after the inheritance dropped. Most importantly of all, in each hand, he carried two kebabs. One of them was partially eaten, but it didn't last much longer. Next to him was an ordinary-looking man wearing a bluejeans and an orange plaid shirt carrying a backpack. Both of them had interesting goatees, however, cementing them as being together. Jim, of course, felt compelled to comment on the man's attire.

"Okay, so Logan's right there, but do you have a secret husband who just left you a bunch of money, or..?" the menace trailed off, capturing his friend's attention.

"I'm not going to last much longer myself in this outfit." Kristopherson laughed. "It's summer. I'm wearing all black. I'm also wearing a corset and heels. Truly, if I were human, I may have died already."

"Fortunately, your ankles can regenerate. What are those?!" Jim demanded, gesturing to the wolfman's shoes.

"Louboutins, bitch." Without looking, Kristopherson took another bite of a kebab while peering at the demon from behind his sunglasses.

"Why the fuck are you wearing fucking Louboutins to a fucking pride parade?!"

"Since when is a fucking pride parade not the fucking time to wear fucking Louboutins?!"

"You two have such a profound command over the English language..." Ciel noted, prompting Kristopherson's own date to snort.

"I have a pair of backup shoes in my bag." Logan replied, tugging at the strap of his backpack. "Flats."

"Oh. Clever." the Watchdog nodded in approval. Logan was practically minded and he could respect that.

"Bet you a tenner you fall on your ass." Jim declared with a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

"Psh! I can wear these all day! I'd bet dinner on it!" Kristopherson boldly replied.

"Deal!"

"You're on! I'd shake on it, but I have my hands full."

"That's what she said."

"I highly doubt that." Ciel butted in with a jest and thus, Kristopherson and Logan had joined the Phantomhive's party. Somehow, in this setting, none of them stood out in the slightest. It was nice, blending in with the crowd, but somehow, the most ordinary member of their circle of friends was the only one to really stand out at all.

There were a couple of bros looking around while waiting for the parade to start, all the while, somewhat tentatively holding hands. Riding on the shoulders of the darker-haired one sat a little girl, surveying the scene from above the crowd with a rainbow flag in her hand. The two men seemed cheerful, only for the brunet of the pair to blush as he made eye-contact with the Phantomhive party. Quickly, he turned away, holding on to his partner's hand a bit tighter so that he was able to fight the temptation to let go. Wicked smiles crawled across the faces of Jim and Kristopherson and the two obnoxious n'er-do-wells closed in on their friend like a pair of velociraptors with a stubbed toe, leaving their own respective partners no choice but to slowly follow after them.

"Daaaaaaannnyyyy~!" The horrible call made Mister Westley immediately want to run, but instead, he turned his head and bravely faced his tormentors. Kristopherson slapped him on the back and Jim ruffled his hair, both of which were actions done purely out of affection.

"Whatcha up to?" Jim questioned.

Meanwhile, Kristopherson reached up and shook the hand on the girl sitting on Daniel's boyfriend's shoulders. "Hi, Ruby."

"Same thing you're doing, probably." Daniel replied, swatting the demon away. He had no reaction to his friends' attire, but they certainly had one to his.

"So you're here at the gay pride parade… wearing a Leicester City football jersey?" Kristopherson asked. If he had long hair to toss over his shoulder, he would have done so.

"What? It's the gayest thing I own!" Daniel protested.

"How is Leicester gay?"

"Teddy gave me this shirt for my birthday!"

At that, Mister Ravenscroft offered the group a wave. "Hello, everyone!"

"Daddy always gets mad when they're on the telly because the refs always miss all of the ludicrous displays." Ruby very helpfully added, prompting the warlock to blush a bit.

"We're saving up so we can go to one of the games." informed Mister Westley. "Hoping to make a weekend of it."

"Oh! That's great!" Jim grinned, only to blink in confusion when Kristopherson placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder. Daniel was confused as well while watching the wolfman playfully wipe away an invisible tear.

"You've finally found someone who likes football." Kristopherson said. "That's beautiful, Dan."

"Fu- I mean..." Daniel cut himself off, remembering Ruby was there. After reconsidering, he was much more polite. "Yeah. Same team, too!"

"That's amazing. Truly, amazing, Dan." There was no hint of irony or sarcasm in Kristopherson's tone, but before he could say anything else, the sound of drums thundered in the distance. "It's starting!" The wolfman's arm reflexively wrapped around his own beau's shoulders as he howled with the crowd in approval. Logan put his arm around his waist in turn and joined him, doing his best to imitate an authentic werewolf howl. "You're gonna love it, Logan!"

The first few marchers rounded the corner with their flags and banners and posters, shouting slogans that the group was sure were catchy, but they couldn't quite make out from over the sound of the crowd. Even the demons strained, but everyone seemed sure enough in themselves that the group felt compelled to agree. There were signs with phrases like "I cunt think straight," which Ciel found to be a bit vulgar, but when in Rome, he supposed. A while after that first wave, however, came a second with people carrying the flags from different countries. A few drag queens broke the monotony of seeing poster after poster, and each time one showed up, Logan and Kristopherson yelled especially loudly. They booed at one, however, prompting the others in their group to wonder what exactly she did to deserve such treatment. There was one particularly interesting bunch, however, that dressed like aristocratic ladies from back when people still wore powdered wigs and approximately thirteen petticoats and all of them sported full beards. Even Ciel had to admit it was fascinating.

Ciel was especially impressed, however, by the amount of companies that had floats in the parade. People in rainbow-clad shirts sat atop them and waved, prompting the Earl to wonder how exactly his own company could get in on the publicity. He could tell that Jim was unimpressed, but still, the Watchdog busily made mental notes of the sort of things that everyone was doing. Matching t-shirts. Colour coordination. Large buses and trucks. Big banners. Got it. Some even threw cheap bead necklaces and candy, which made Ciel, of course, smile. This would be easy!

Some floats had flashing lights on them and gigantic speakers that blasted loud, upbeat, music that everyone danced to. The streets were flooded with people who danced as they advanced forward, all wearing massive smiles on their faces. Jim beamed as he jumped to the beat as well, clapping his hands and trying to coax practically anyone and everyone around him to do the same. Ciel concluded the Jim would be great if he were actually in the parade. "Perhaps next time." he thought while watching the menace grab Finnian's hands and dance. Once the gardener was moving, he moved on to Luka and then Sebastian before somehow managing to get Revy to move by some bizarre miracle. Ciel, however, was even more stubborn.

He was content to just stand there and watch. Moreover, he didn't really care for Lady Gaga's greatest hits from 2013 mixed with marchingband drums and a mess of whistles. He had to admit, however, it was nice to see all of the rainbow flags. Occassionally, the Watchdog would spot one that matched the pin on his breast and his mouth would threaten to smile a little wider. He remembered when there was none of this. Worse, he remembered when this sort of love was illegal and considered both a mental disease and a moral failing. Seeing it so open actually made the Earl feel a bit happy- far more than he would ever like to confess, really, but "a bit" was a start.

Looking at his own group, he saw Daniel with his boyfriend and the little girl that Daniel may end up being stepfather to, if their relationship does well in the long term. Ruby Ravenscroft was waving her flag at the marchers and her father was holding onto her feet so she stayed firmly on her shoulders. Daniel, however, held onto Theodore Ravenscroft's bicep and even went so far as to kiss the man's cheek when he thought his friends weren't looking. Seeing how Mister Ravenscroft looked at Mister Westley, though, made Ciel feel as though they would be alright.

Kristopherson and Logan were tangled together as well, with Logan's arm around the wolfman's waist and his hand resting on the wolfman's opposite hip. Kristopherson himself, however, had once had his arm around the incubus' shoulders, but now hand his hand innocuously tangled in Logan's hair, absent-mindedly playing with it as he watched the parade. That just left Jim and Ciel, the Watchdog noticed, as the final set of couples in their group. Jim was still trying to get Ciel to dance alongside him, but soon, the menace would have his chance.

Soon, the Band of the Grenadier Guards would march through and stop right in front of them. In their bright red uniforms and tall, bear-skin, hats, they would stop and they would play. They would play "Dancing Queen" by ABBA. Seemingly by law, all gay events must play a handful of bands, singers, and songs. There was Queen, The Village People, Lady Gaga, and also ABBA. Now, it wasn't as though Ciel couldn't resist dancing to ABBA. He definitely could. He was very good at it. Under ordinary circumstance, he could not be convinced. However, with this much cheerful energy around him, it was difficult to resist. With such a prestigious military band playing it, it was even moreso. With his husband swaying to the beat with him, however, it was impossible. It was perhaps the gayest moment of his entire one-hundred and forty-two years of life- and he was loving it.

It was difficult to move very much in the crowd, but all they had to do was move back and forth to the beat while moving their feet a little bit. There came a point when Jim was actually missing the parade because his focus was placed on Ciel- Ciel and his nice muscles, pretty face, and cute smile. It was like the Earl was glowing. What a shame it was that he was wearing sunglasses, as the menace couldn't see his beau's pretty eyes, but Jim would get his chance soon enough. He was having fun with the Watchdog and that's what counted. The thunder of the drums shook them and moved them, and with the crowd singing the lyrics, it was a moment that could be likened to magic.

Eventually, the band marched on, leaving them laughing and clinging to one another's arms. Representatives of the rest of the military came through immediately after them, leading both of the demons to joke about how the army clearly needed to run through their drills a bit better, as many of them appeared out of step.

There was a group of goths that marched, a group of people in funny outfits on rollerskates, and a car decorated with a unicorn horn and pegasus wings, but there came a point where Ciel began to feel a bit tired. It wasn't that he disliked the situation or that the magic had run out, but rather, that the situation called for such vast amounts of energy, that the Watchdog simply had trouble keeping up! He yawned, wondering just how much longer this would go on. His spouse seemed perpetually energetic, on the other hand, and still appeared to be having fun, so that was all that was really important to the Earl at that moment. He came for him, after all. When the police arrived, however, Ciel changed his tune a bit and yelled along with the menace as they spotted Detective Bailey Juniour in uniform. They hoped he wasn't still mad about them having to cut off one of his fingers. It was for his own safety!

As things were drawing to a close, Jim looked over at his friends again. Daniel was still hollering and in high spirits, chanting and cheering along with the crowd with ease. Being loud suited him. The demons were glad he was there. It was the first time in a long while that they saw him looking so close to his old self. He was practically pumped, looking like he was going to engage in an act of delinquency at any moment. If he did, Jim would be right there with him, ready to go, but Kristopherson would have to think about it a while longer, as he appeared to be struggling a bit.

His feet were on fire. Kristopherson was doing his best not to lean the entirety of his weight on Logan and instead tried to lean what he could on the metal railing in front of him. Choosing these shoes was unwise, but he still looked great. Jim was looking forward to having the wolfman pay for dinner, however, so he was more than willing to stick around and wait.

The parade had ended. There was only a small trickle of people at the end as people left and the streets slowly started to return to order. Jim was waiting for it. Even if Kristopherson could endure standing for hours, walking was an entirely different ballpark. He was going to hold the wolfman to his bet if he fell and he was also going to invite Daniel and the Ravenscrofts out to eat, too.

Sure enough, Kristopherson wobbled for a few steps before tightly grabbing on to Logan's shoulder for support. His face was pained with his eyes scrunched up and his lips pressed together in a thin line. "Logan, I need my backup shoes."

The coward! Jim looked on with his mouth slightly open as Mister Miles took off his shoes in the middle of the sidewalk. Logan took off his backpack and opened it up, handing his beau the pair of tennis shoes that were stashed in side of it. A loud groan escaped the wolfman as he removed those accursed heels. He handed them off to Logan and slid on his other pair before pitifully rubbing his calves.

"Jesus fucking Christ, that hurts!" Kristopherson whined. "My legs feel like mush- mush that's on fucking fire!"

"I told you not to wear those." Logan half-scolded. "There was no way that you could wear them the whole day! You're lucky I made you bring spares!"

"Ugh… Thanks, baby..." The wolfman was a pitiful sight. "You're so smart..."

"Damn right, I am." replied the incubus, taking hold of his boyfriend's hand, anyway. He still allowed Kristopherson to keep one hand on his shoulder for support, as dumb as he thought the brunet's choices were. "Where to next?"

"Kris owes everyone food, so out to eat, probably." Jim cut in, stating it as fact.

"I didn't fall! I win the bet!" Kristopherson protested. "You pay!"

"You forfeited! Taking of your shoes is a forfeit!" his friend snapped back. "Logan, explain basic etiquette to your man!"

"You never discussed the rules for a forfeit, though?" answered the incubus.

"That's because it's obvious! You traitor!"

"How can I betray you if I'm on Kris' team?"

"Ugh!"

"Ha! Suck it, Phantomhive!" Kristopherson mocked.

"You fucking wish, you fucking furry!"

"Hey!"

"Let's call a vote." Logan suggested, holding up a hand. "Daniel, Theodore, and Ruby should join in, too, to break any ties."

"Fine! More mouths for Kris to feed!" Jim haughtily declared, crossing his arms across his chest. "Everyone who thinks I won, raise your hand!"

He raised his own hand and looked around. No one else did the same. He watched as his friends grinned and stifled their laughter. Ruby, being four, didn't bother and giggled at him openly. Even his own family didn't raise their hands for him. The demon's poor husband caught a nasty glare from Jim and put up his hands.

"Logan's right. You didn't discuss the forfeit and you didn't say if the trip after the parade counted." Ciel offered in his defense. Still, the blonde grabbed his shoulders and clung to him while lamenting the betrayal.

"Traitors! You're all traitors! I hate you!" declared the menace. "I want a divorce!"

"You would've laughed if it happened to me, but it's not okay if everyone votes against you?" Kristopherson questioned.

"Yeah, but it's not funny when it's me." bluntly stated the Phantomhive without any trace of shame.

"Since Jim's paying, let's be sure to pick someplace nice..." Kristopherson said to Daniel and Theodore, to which they pair enthusiastically agreed.

"Dicks! You're all dicks!" shouted the menace.

"That's a bad word!" Ruby promptly stated, pointing at the blonde accusingly.

"That's right." the wolfman replied. "He should put some money in the swear jar."

"_Starve!_"

* * *

**A/N: _Then Perish..._**

**I actually finished this chapter yesterday and forgot to post it lmao. I've had a lot going on... My computer died right when I had two projects due and everything's been kind of a mess!**

**Y'all want the demons to have a baby real bad, but Jim can't stop saying the word "fuck," so I think maybe they need a bit more time... We'll have that conversation, though. I'm still working out the kinks of this big, serious, arc I'm gonna attempt, so we're gonna keep with the lighthearted shit for a while. Sorry! Bear with me! **

**Kinja145 has been invaluable in this stage, because we're going international, this time! That's a big reason why it's taking so long. Remember: I was planning the Abhartach arc for MONTHS before I actually started writing it! It's just that this time, we don't have any big arcs to fill the gap since that arc, so apart from a rather lackluster one, we also have a lot of slice-of-life content leftover from while I was actually writing the Abhartach arc to make use of. Pride's been on the list for a while. **

**My plan is to jump into this next thing, get that done, and then jump into the thing I actually want to do. Sound good?**

**As always, let me know what you think, because feedback makes this a lot easier and also you guys have better ideas than me sometimes pfft-!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	40. New Housing New Nonsense

"Jim…" Ciel was very confused. He had been asked to see if his husband had packed toothpaste, but as he peered into his beloved's suitcase, a swarm of questions washed over him.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Why… Why is there several boxes of condoms and a knife in your bag?"

"Oh! The knife isn't supposed to be there." Jim replied, walking out of the bathroom and over to the bed. He looked down at his own suitcase, reached inside, and pulled out the knife, gripping it firmly by the handle as if he were going to use it. Then, the threads of his demonic garb came undone, only to weave the weapon inside. The knife dissappeared before their very eyes, but Ciel still had questions.

"That's really shady, Jim..."

"What? You're bringing a gun, aren't you? Besides, it's the one you gave me! You even engraved it with 'I love you' on the blade!"

"That's true, but it's one of those illegal ones with the brass knuckles. It looked like you were seriously up to no good?"

"What?! No way..."

"You still didn't answer my other question, either."

"Because it's our anniversary?" Jim pointed out bluntly with a tilt of his head, as if he thought the Watchdog was daft for asking. "Some of them don't even fit me. They're backups in case you forgot to pack some and one of them is a pack of flavour-"

Ciel cut his beau off by introducing the palm of his hand to his own forehead. "You-you really thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Not really. I forgot lube. Hang on a second..."

"You should pack some _clothes!_"

It was July the twentysixth- a Wednesday, and the day of the demonic duo's anniversary. Jim had organised a bit of a retreat for the two of them that would last until the next Tuesday. In truth, he wanted it to be longer, but Integra said "no." They needed to be back and on call as soon as possible, so they took what they could get. They wouldn't travel abroad, but it would still be nice- at least, Jim hoped so. He had never planned this sort of thing by himself before, so he was a bit nervous.

Eventually, they were certain that they had everything they needed and loaded everything in the back of the SUV. Sebastian was a bit nervous about letting Jim borrow it, but he really was a careful driver in spite of his previous accidents, as all of them were mission-related. After a few instructions and farewells to the family, they set off, leaving them on their own. While the masters were away, however…

...Things were as strict as usual, with Sebastian there.

Luka couldn't slack on his studies. Revy couldn't slack on getting to work on time. Finnian couldn't slack on the job, either. Everything would stay running ship-shape as usual while the duo was away. Revy, however, left work early that day, as he went out and looked at an apartment. He would have rather looked at it with Sebastian or Ciel, but had a list of things to look for so went in feeling confident. As he left and returned home, however, his confidence had deflated and he returned to plant fact first into the cushions of the couch in the entertainment room.

"People put their butts there, you know." Luka said, forcing the revenant to roll over and rest the back of his head on the arm of the sofa with a groan. "No luck?"

"I don't know..." Revy sighed. "It was nice. I could feasibly live there, sure. It met all of the specifications that Sebastian and Ciel told me to look for… at least, I think? Still, though..."

"What?"

"It's pretty far away… It's closer to work and the neighbours seem nice, but they're very..."

"'Very?'"

"Very human." the revenant concluded. "I don't mind humans. I work with them, after all. It just feels weird to surround myself with them all the time."

"Then live in Gehenna, or something."

"But I don't want to be surrounded by supernaturals, either. I feel like I want sort of a balance, but that's kind of impossible, I guess."

"Yeah, I don't see how that's a thing." Luka nodded, pausing his game for a moment. "Jim and Sebastian really want me to go to Warwick to get used to humans, but I don't really want to. I don't see why I need that, but mostly, I just want to stay with my friends."

"That makes sense. I'd be the exact same way if I was you."

"Why do you need to be around humans so bad?"

"Dunno. Because I went to Warwick, I guess. I'm also mostly human, so maybe I just want to be around people like me."

"Zombies?"

"Piss off." Revy threw one of the throwpillows on the sofa at his brother, hitting him upside the head with it.

"You're dead and you don't have any powers other than not dying." Luka offered. "So: zombie."

"I'm not rotting, though."

"There's other kinds of zombies. I saw a movie where it was a disease."

"I'm not sick." Pausing, the revenant arched his brow. "Are you watching things you're not supposed to again?"

"No. Sebastian always catches me, so there's no point in trying. I'm old enough for scary movies, anyway. They suck, though. I've never seen one that was accurate."

"Yeah, but no supernatural has ever made any kind of movie, that we know of. I guess it's just as well, since humans aren't supposed to know about that stuff, anyway. Part of the reason why it would be a pain to live around so many. I'd have to move every few years just because I don't age!"

"Ciel said he'd let you rent a place down the road. Why don't you do that?"

"It might end up that way, since I can't find anywhere I like. There's humans and there's demons around here, and Ciel also said that he'll give me a lower price than usual, since we're family. That's pretty hard to beat, since London is fucking expensive."

"When I move out, I want to live in a cabin in the woods." Luka stated.

"Oh! You can go hunting!"

"That's the idea!" the demon grinned. "I'd like to live near some supernaturals, too, but mostly, I wanna be one of those guys who lives in the woods and does all that outdoorsy stuff. Living in the city sounds horrible. There's too many people around."

"I thought you'd be the type to love that, though?"

"Yeah, but only nice people. A lot of people suck, though, and you don't get to pick which ones you get."

Luka always loved being outside. As much as he loved videogames and the like, he would rather be hunting or fishing or just sitting in a tree, somewhere. He always came back with grass and mud stains on his clothes, but he never minded. Sebastian did, but that was Sebastian's problem to deal with.

Everyone sort of assumed it was due to the way he grew up. Jim needed to go on dangerous and somewhat shady missions and Luka needed to kick rocks and work on his "fort" in the middle of the woods without anybody bothering him. He didn't mind having any of the others help him with positioning the branches and fix them in place, but anyone who he wasn't particularly close to wasn't allowed in. That said a lot about him, really. He was picked on and beaten up by other children and adults alike in his home village, but being alone with Jim and playing was always peaceful and fun. He still got that, even now. Jim liked to go for walks every so often and was always drawn to the woods when he did. He often went alone, but Luka often tagged along also, and either was fine. They still had fun.

Luka had the mass of sticks stacked together with some tarp over it that was his "fort," which he always intended to get rid of and build a "proper" one in it's place, but he also had other things out there. He had the hole he hid his "treasures" in, along with everything else he didn't want Sebastian to find. Sebastian knew about it, but Luka didn't know that. The youngest of the demons also had his time capsule that he buried with Jim and he could find everything because he knew all of the landmarks of the forest, like the tree that had Jim and Ciel's initials carved into them three times; one for each time Jim changed his name.

This was the sort of thing that Luka liked, but it was not the same with Revy. Revy had trouble finding out what he liked. He didn't really know his past, but he knew pieces of it. He knew that he probably lived in the city at some point and perhaps frequented places that he perhaps shouldn't have. He knew that he would like to live in a nicer neighbourhood, if he lived in a neighbourhood at all. While open to living in less populated areas, he also didn't really want to live in a place where everyone knew everyone and everyone's business, too. It would be inconvenient, as while he was somewhat at the halfway point between a human and a supernatural, he was still supernatural and the simple fact that he cannot die or age would be noticed if people were too nosy. It was his job to know these things, after all, as he made up lies and "debunked" supernatural sightings for a living. The last thing he wanted was to become a sighting, himself!

Revy wasn't like Luka in that he wanted to live around people- to some extent, obviously, but the isolation of the woods simply wasn't really for him. He knew that he could live very comfortably in the space that Ciel had offered him and that obviously, he could move in a while if he found somewhere that he liked better.

The pros were simple: Cheap, close to family, close to both supernaturals and a few humans, a pleasant view, and it was isolated enough that he could play guitar without bothering anyone. The cons were simpler: There weren't many people around. He was somewhat nervous about living by himself, but felt as though it was time. The family was close enough so that if he ever needed anything, they could help him, but it seemed like he was going to be lonely. Still, he had to start somewhere. If he didn't like it, he would change his plans. Now that his heart seemed to be a bit more settled on it, all he had to do was wait for Ciel to come back and sign the paperwork before anyone could start making sure the building that was over there was even inhabitable. Ciel, however, was off on an adventure and after over an hour of driving, the Watchdog wondered if he had walked into a greater adventure than he had anticipated.

Ciel closed the car door with suitcase in hand as he followed his beau into the building that Jim had rented for the week. He paused, staring up at it for a while. It wasn't exactly his aesthetic, but he could somewhat piece together why his spouse would choose it.

It was a rather nice, wooden cabin- rather, it was "cabin inspired." It was clearly high-end and designed by someone who only valued the mild aesthetic of being an outdoorsman, with high windows and an open floorplan, modern lights inside and a concrete deck that overlooked the lake right next to the building. In all of these ways, it suited Ciel's sensibilities just fine, although the Watchdog knew that if Jim were choosing for himself, he would have gone cheaper and more authentic. The blatant effort at compromising without any prompting made Ciel smile a little bit as he continued.

"Well, well, quite the impressive find, Sir Phantomhive." Ciel said as his beau unlocked the door.

"I was hoping you'd like it." chuckled the menace in response before swinging the door open. He walked inside, prompting his spouse to do the same, before allowing the Watchdog to close the door behind the two of them. Indeed, there was very little that was "rustic" about the inside. "Welcome to my bougie murder cabin. It's the perfect place for huntsmen in search of more humanoid game and well-off cannibals."

"Which category do you fall into?" Ciel jokingly asked.

"I'm an assassin with some free time." The truth made the Watchdog laugh louder than any jest would have. "I didn't want to spend it worrying about the next mission or when it's coming, or about work in general. Besides, we never go on trips together, so that's the idea." He continued to talk as the two of them wandered into the bedroom and tilted his suitcase on it's side on the floor. He then began to unpack, placing his belongings in one of the dressers. "I wanna spend time with you away from everybody else."

"I can see that." the Watchdog nodded along. "Do you have any ideas as to what you want to do while we're here, or..."

"Well, there's a firepit on the deck, so we can hang out, there. There's also kayaks, and the water should be nice enough to swim in. We could go hiking, too."

"We could have a picnic."

"Yeah! We should do that!" Jim agreed, turning around to face his beau as he closed the drawer. "We should explore the house some, though. Check for ghosts. Also I don't know where anything is."

"Well, I'm certainly well-equipped to do that."

"With your new bluejeans?" snickered the blonde.

"With my new bluejeans. I'm a rugged man, you know." Ciel playfully said as he wandered around. He opened things, closed things, peeked into closets and found hidden storage spaces. "I used to go hunting, you know."

"Mm-hm. Like a proper man, right?"

"Indeed. I got dressed up in my hunting clothes and rode on horseback while all of the commoners walked- Just like every other outdoorsman, you know."

"Psh, dickhead."

"Is my posh talk unattractive?"

"Very." Jim replied, stepping out of the room. His husband chuckled behind him a bit before the menace shouted: _"This_ commoner found the bathroom, m'lord!"

"Very good, very good, my darling little n'er-do-well. I shall have to give you a sixpence for your services." The Watchdog called back, grinning as he heard the other man cackle.

Exploring the "cabin" that was far too big and too posh to be a cabin, Ciel wandered into the living room and ran a finger across the mantel of the fireplace. It was a well maintained space, although he didn't care for some aesthetic choices. He didn't care for the large deer head on the wall, but knew that he had his own trophies at home, so he felt somewhat hypocritical. It was an arrogant, "oh, is that all? Not worth bragging about it" feeling of superiority. There was a lot about this space that made him feel smug, really, but he wasn't going to ruin Jim's time or make his beloved feel as though he chose badly by boasting. Ultimately, Ciel was still very much aware of and proud of his power, despite becoming more docile in recent years.

"Here." his husband called from behind him, prompting the Watchdog to turn around. Gingerly, he took the glass of wine offered to him from Jim's outstretched hand as his husband was already taking a sip.

"Thank you."

"They only offered two bottles of red, so make it count. The rest is all white."

"We should save the rest for dinner. White is better with some things, though, so maybe it will be fine..." Ciel took a sip. "What kind is this?"

"It's…" Jim squinted into his glass, before sitting down on the sofa. "Red wine."

"A very astute observation, your highness."

"Why, thank you, my lord." His slurped the drink in an exaggerated fashion, aerating it, but mostly making noise for an inappropriately long amount of time. He smacked his lips together. "Hm. Yes, indeed. That sure is wine."

"I'm not really sure if there is much point in drinking it, since we can't even get any sort of buzz." the Watchdog replied, sitting down next to the menace and allowing him to put an arm around his shoulders. Leaning back into the sofa, he crossed one leg over the other, getting into a rather lazy, lounging position before uttering a rather content sigh. "It does set a bit of a mood, however." he added before taking another sip.

"Really? What sort of mood?"

"One of indulgent idleness." Settling against his beau, the Watchdog leaned his head back on the other man's shoulder. "Personally, I think we should should start our adventure… by sitting for a moment. You've been driving a while, after all."

Setting his glass on the end table beside his seat, the menace reclined as well before silently offering to set the other man's drink down for him as well. "It's weird how sitting in the car is solved by sitting on a couch. If that's what you wanna do, though, I won't fight you." Putting a hand in his husband's hair, he sighed. "We don't have any groceries for dinner, though, so we'll have to go grocery shopping. At least get some marshmallows or something."

"There was a pub a little ways away from here." Ciel offered. "Not very far, but also not very close. Kind of a weird place for a pub."

"Yeah… With our luck, it'll be run by faeries and we'll have to punch are way back from Tir na nÓg or some shit."

The Watchdog laughed. "That is a possibility."

"I do want some fish n' chips, though, so maybe it's worth the risk."

"Fish n' chips made by faeries?"

"Better be some damn good chips."

* * *

**A/N: Hello~! Sorry, this was late! I have a lot going on at the moment, including an Art History class tomorrow. Wish me luck... I really need it...**

**This will probably be a bit short, or I might even just set things up during this storyline. Who knows? I certainly don't. I'd like to see what everybody does when the duo aren't in the picture, but I keep saying that and inevitably am like "I wanna write for the demons again!" It never ends... **

**Let me know what you think, though. Who do you want to see, more importantly? I'm not really sure where to start!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	41. Professional Conduct

Gravel crunched as the black Mercedes turned into the pub's parking lot. It was dark out and the place was a bit out of the way, but it was dinnertime, so while the place wasn't extremely packed, there were a few cars there. There were quite a few motorcycles, too, prompting Ciel to examine them as they walked by, turning his head while being led by the hand by his beau. There were a few nice models and a few horrendously modified ones, much to his disgust.

"What is the point in that?" he asked to the air. "Why ruin a perfectly good motorbike like that? It's hideous!" To Ciel, you either had the proper model or you had a pile of rubbish on wheels, and that was that.

When they walked inside, they had their answer as to why these bikes were there, as there was a very large group spanning several tables, all wearing leather jackets with embroidery and patches on them. Now, at a glance, one might feel intimidated by the sight, but upon further inspection, the duo immediately recognised that it was not a gang or anything of the sort, but rather, a group of enthusiasts. They attempted to dress the part, wearing new, unbroken-in leather, pristine jeans, and spotless bandanas on their heads, and attempted to talk it, too, with odd proclamations of how badass they were, each trying to outdo the other. The demons exchanged a glance and a knowing smile, finding it funny.

"We've walked into a group of dentists in cosplay." the menace whispered to the other man as they sat down.

"It's better for them to pretend." Ciel replied. "As long as they don't take it too far, I suppose."

"Well, well, you're a lot more open to this stuff than you used to be, aren't you?" Jim noted, arching an eyebrow. "I would think that you'd say they should grow up or something?"

"It's none of my business, I suppose. I do find it to be very silly, though. I have no idea why one would want to pretend to be a bit of a roughneck in public without being able to back it up, but it's a thing, apparently. Then again, they don't really know the reality of it, do they? That must keep the romanticism, I think."

"Mm-hm. You're probably right. It's very thrilling and all that; makes you feel powerful, and all, until you get glassed because you crossed somebody you shouldn't have. Always the hero of the movie until they're 'random thug who dies in bar fight number three.'"

"And the likelihood of being the latter is higher than they think."

They bantered back and forth, laughing as they ate. The pair made no moves to conceal the nature of the relationship, casually making affectionate, but publicly-appropriate touches to the arms and shoulders while they talked, culminating to the demons holding hands as they sat there after the meal. They got a few looks, but they always did. Both of them knew they weren't in any kind of danger, so it ultimately didn't matter. Why should they care about what a bunch of fake bikers think? It would be absurd to even consider that placating them was a necessity!

It all came to a head when Jim decided that he wasn't quite done eating. "I'm going to go get some crisps. Want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Alright, but no take-backs. You can't have any of mine when I get ba-" Jim talked as he stood up. His guard was down, giving the setting, so he uncharacteristically failed to notice the man walking past the table with a tray full of beers for himself and his friends. Jim cut his teasing of his spouse short as his elbow accidentally knocked against the tray, causing the heavy glasses to lose balance and spill down the front of the man's clothes before plummeting to the floor.

"Ah! Sorry, mate! Let me help you..." The menace was immediately apologetic, recognising that he was at fault, and started to crouch down to help pick up the glasses and glass shards. It was a sensible response- perhaps even a generous one. Yet, the man made no move to assist him and instead glared daggers down at the blonde while puffing up his stature to look angrier and more threatening.

"You'd better pick that up!" the man rudely snapped. Perhaps "man" was generous. He was younger than quite a few of the others with him and the scraggly scruff of what Jim assumed the man would call a "mustache" and the fuzz that he would call a "beard" only made him look younger. The man held the tray loosely at his side while clutching the front of his jacket in a tight fist. "Look at what you did! You ruined my jacket!"

Without a single thought, Jim stopped. He immediately forgot about the glass on the floor and stood up straight, looking the young man in the eyes with his chest out, shoulders back, and chin parallel to the floor. His calmness was far more intimidating than the man in the leather jacket could ever hope to be as he simply scoffed.

"A little beer isn't enough to 'ruin' a leather jacket, mate." Jim replied. "And if it is, you got ripped off, 'cause it's a piece of shit. Pick it up, yourself. I'm not helping you."

The young man recoiled a bit, his grip slacking, and his brows raising a bit. He hadn't expected the menace to talk back like that. Quickly, he looked past Jim at the others at his table, only for a few of the oldest members to shake their heads with concerned looks on their faces. Those who were younger- about in their thirties, encouraged their younger compatriot.

He stepped forward, getting in the blonde's space as he furrowed his brows angrily. "You owe me eight pints, poofter." he stated in a low growl, but the menace was unfazed.

"I don't owe you shit, pube'stache." the menace retorted. "Now, get it out of my face. I already have a husband who's much more masculine than you. I ain't interested."

Jim never broke his gaze, but the other man, did, stealing a glance at his target's husband. Ciel looked on with a great deal of calm, but more importantly, he seemed incredibly amused by the display. He wasn't going to help Jim. Jim had this. But the man in the leather jacket did not. Looking back at the menace, he chose to get more aggressive, only to spark further amusement as he did so with an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

"You're gonna give me those pints or I'm gonna make you!" he rather unwisely declared, reaching up to grab the collar of Jim's shirt.

"Okay. Then make me." Jim grinned. He wanted to know if the other man would really do it. It was a game, to him. It was a game to both demons, to measure just how much truth there was in his big, bad, biker persona. It wasn't looking likely, however, as he looked to his friends again, obviously eager to impress.

He had chosen what he thought was the weaker-looking of the two queers in this rough and tough, but actually rather ordinary, pub full of not-real-bikers, but things weren't going as expected. He expected Jim to curl up like an authentic sissy, throwing his hands up in the air while letting out a high-pitched squeal before submitting to whatever abuse the man in the leather jacket decided to dish out. This was supposed to make him feel big, but he felt small as the blonde instead chose to defy him instead. A haughty smirk appeared on the Phantomhive's face as he watched the young man with the insufficient mustache struggle. Jim was very obviously delighted, knowing that the man wanted to fight, but knew better, but neither of them were going to back down.

They didn't have to make the choice, it seemed, as an older man made his way over to them as fast as he could on his creaking legs. He wore a jacket that matched the first man's and a pair of oval-shaped glasses. He had a meek, clean-cut look about him that made Jim think: "Ah, here comes the dentist."

"Adam!" the older man called, walking up to his compatriot. The way he stood next to him and put a hand on his shoulder indicated their relationship. Not only was the younger man not a real biker, he had been brought on this trip by his father. "I'm very sorry about him. Please pay him no mind!" the older man said to the menace. "He isn't usually like this."

"Ah, well, you know how young boys are. They feel like they have to show how big they are!" Jim jabbed back while adopting a polite, but somewhat pitying manner.

"Let's go, Adam. We can always get more beer." the older man said to his son, starting to steer him to go around the menace, but poor Adam. Poor, impulsive, Adam, had to have the last hit. Unfortunately for him, he chose to do so literally.

It was sudden, it was messy, it was a sucker punch, intended to catch the menace off guard and send him plummeting to the floor. It didn't, as Jim saw Adam's body tensing as he prepared to strike, yet the demon made no effort to dodge him. Instead, he took the punch straight to the face, still looking the other man in the eyes. He didn't blink. He didn't flinch. The impact of the fist striking his cheek didn't even make him budge. Instead, he just stood there, motionless like a statue and Adam, poor Adam, doubled over, clutching his fist close to his chest. It felt as though he had just punched marble.

Eventually, Adam was able to look at his fist and noticed that his knuckles were bright red. The one of his middle finger, however, was dark and bruised. He was lucky that he hadn't punched the menace with his fingers, or else they might be broken. Looking up at the menace in disbelief. He was taken aback at how the menace just looked down at him as if it didn't hurt. There wasn't even any discolouration on his cheek! It was as if he were never hit! The man in the leather jacket found it very difficult to reconcile the fact that this pretty-looking faerie was also much, much, tougher than him. He felt both ashamed and afraid.

With a chuckle, the demon gave Adam a nasty smirk as he reached out and grabbed the collar of his jacket with one hand, pulling him closer. Using both hands to be more "realistic," the menace lifted the poor man off of the floor until only the tips of his toes brushed against its surface. "Too bad. So sad. You took your shot and it didn't work." Jim wickedly stated. "Should I take my turn, then? I mean, it's only fair, isn't it?"

The poor human man shook like a leaf, knowing that if the demon followed through, he might not get right back up again. As he stared into the demon's threatening gaze, he knew that he had to say something. "Uh… I-I'm sorry?" he said before realising it sounded as though he couldn't hear the menace. "I'm sorry!" he clarified. "I didn't know what I was doing!"

"You were trying to intimidate me. That's what you were doing. Listen, I know I have a sweet face and don't really look it, but I am a genuine, bonafide, thug, you see. I'm just on an anniversary trip with my husband at the moment, but still, I gotta take this seriously. I can't look weak when threatened in front of my man, y'know? It's lame! But more importantly than that, I can't stand it when some weak little wannabe punk treats me so badly. I mean! I was even going to help you clean up the mess and offer to compensate you, but you had to be a tough guy and put the 'poofter' in his place, didn't you? You really need to learn that you shouldn't be rude to people. Surely your dad over there tried to teach you some manners, yeah?"

"I did!" the older man standing next to the menace urgently said, holding up his hands as if he was going to catch his son if he was dropped. "I'm very sorry for his behaviour! It's completely unacceptable! I'll have a word with him about it!"

"Hm, I'm not really satisfied with that, I'm afraid." Jim replied calmly. "With edgy folks like this, they just roll their eyes and tune out their parents. The only way they really learn is by having to live with the consequences of their actions." Turning his head back to the younger man, Jim added: "So, sorry, mate, but I kinda have to punch you on principle."

"Wh-what if I pay your tab?" the young man in the leather jacket offered.

"What, so like, a shake-down-type situation?"

"Sure?"

"Hm..." Facing his beau, the blonde asked Ciel: "What do you think?"

"It sounds alright to me." Ciel replied. "It's your honour, though."

"You're the expert on that kind of procedure, so if it's alright, then I can accept that."

Gently, the blonde lowered the poor man back down to the floor and released him, pausing a moment in order to straighten his jacket for him. "Alright." Jim nodded. "You pay our tab and I don't have to punch you. Sound good?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Sounds perfect!" Adam said, holding up both of his hands.

Jim looked to his husband and waited for him to nod. "Alright, then." the blonde said. "We'll be taking our leave, then." He pat the young man in the leather jacket's shoulder as he walked past. "Mind your manners. Eat your vegetables, and all that. Come along, darling."

With that, their romantic dinner came to a close. They left the pub and headed out into the parking lot. The night air wasn't as fresh as it could be, as the smell of the kitchen seeped into it, but it wasn't bad. It wasn't London, at least. The pair waited until they got into their car and turned onto the highway before the first chuckle turned into a laugh, but it was the polite thing to do.

"I really thought you were going to hit him." Ciel grinned, covering his smile with his hand.

"So did I, but I felt like that was too low for me." his husband replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm glad I didn't have to. What if we want to go to that pub again while we're still here? I'm surprised you didn't step in, though, given how into the whole 'chivalry' thing, you are."

"The thought crossed my mind, but it's more fun seeing you do it."

"Really?"

"Yes. I like seeing you control the room." the bluenette said. "It's very attractive. I'll defend you in situations when you need it, as always, of course."

"Have a thing for powerful men, huh?"

"But of course. Do you think I would want to dishonour the family by willingly sharing my name with someone who was weak? I may be a power-hungry scoundrel, but as such, I desire a strong spouse. It's very simple, Jim."

With a roll of his eyes, the menace answered. "Oh yeah? But doesn't me being powerful step on your need for power? Wouldn't that make it hard to give up power in a relationship?"

"Not really. I used to think that when we first started dating, but I've since come to realise that power doesn't really have much to do with relationships, and when they do, the balance should be equal, so the relationship can stay healthy." Wise words, as usual from the Watchdog. "I don't mind handing over control of the situation to you, however. I always trust that you are capable and will act in both of our best interests."

"Wow, how romantic, Ciel!" the menace laughed. "Sweep me off my feet, why don't you?"

"No good? You know how horrible I am at being blunt..."

"Well, that's just part of your charm, too, sometimes."

"How about this, then? Jim, when we get back, I want to give control over to you."

"What?" Jim just laughed again, but his lips slowly pressed together in a thinner and thinner line and his cheeks grew redder and redder as what his husband said sank in. Ciel's voice was low, smooth, and had a sweetness to it that was unmistakable. It surprised the menace how easily he almost missed it. With his head still facing the road, he glanced over at the other Phantomhive with only his eyes moving. In that instant, he caught the bluenette doing the same. Rather, Ciel caught Jim, prompting him to smile while the blonde quickly cleared his throat and focused on the road again.

"You've gotten really dangerous..." the menace noted.

"Really? And here I've been wondering if I've become too soft. I'm missing my edge, lately, but I suppose the change is inevitable. So be prepared, I suppose."

"Don't grab my leg! I'm driving!"

"You find a little bit of danger thrilling too, don't you?"

"Yeah but I've already wrecked two cars!"

Both of them had changed. Ciel wasn't the angry boy he once was and Jim was less vicious at inappropriate times. They were indeed healthier and more secure, even if that meant that they perhaps didn't pummel every single so-and-so who causes them displeasure, but that was simply the nature of things. They would have their highs and they would have their lows, but ultimately, the two of them had chosen to improve instead of staying the same. That was the first step in the metamorphosis from monster to man.

To remain the same is the deny oneself any and all future potential, whether good or bad. It is death without dying. It is existing, but not living. Sometimes, however, the failure to change can affect those around you in ways that are painful- sometimes in ways where death is literal. That is why, when a nondescript car rolled up to HELLSING Headquarters, the head of the organisation knew that something was going to change in a very big way.

Three people stepped out. The first was a woman in a blue pants suit with long, dark brown hair on her head and a pair of highheels on her feet. She strode out of the car with gusto and confidence, looking up at the building, impressed by it. The second was a man with a sour looking face. He wore a black suit and a bright, red, tie with white polka dots on it that somehow worked against his the stern expression he wore. The third person was another woman, shorter than the first, with tan hair that was greying, despite her not seeming old enough for it. She wore a light grey blazer and a matching skirt. Her face was serious, but her eyes were very inquisitive, taking in the sights of the oganisation as they were led through the halls and up to the third floor. Personnel were moving quickly, transporting weapons, tools, paperwork, files, and themselves wherever they needed to go with great proficiency.

"So, this is a supernatural agency?" remarked the man in the polka-dot tie to his compatriots, speaking to them in French.

"We already have some groundwork in place, but this is… a lot..." noted the woman in grey. "It's probably not going to be this efficient for a while..."

"Then we work on it until it is!" answered the woman in blue. "Better, preferably."

They continued on until they were lead to a meeting room with a long, rectangular table. It was the second most prestigious meeting area in the building, placed only behind the room where the round table meets. At the head of the table was a woman with long, pale blonde hair and dark skin, wearing both a pair of round spectacles and an eyepatch over her left eye. Standing dutifully at her side was another fair-haired woman who was much younger-looking, wearing a blood-red military uniform while standing with her arms behind her back.

"I'm pleased that you all could come." the woman with the eyepatch said. "I do apologise for the inconvenience, but with the presence of Iscariot still in your country, I couldn't risk making the trip myself."

"It is no trouble whatsoever." the man in the polka-dot tie replied, taking the initiative by having a seat. Hesitantly, his compatriots did the same, seemingly unsure of the situation. "We are ever so grateful that you are open to helping us, Sir Integra."

The head of the HELLSING Organisation nodded. "You must be Mister Quincampoix. I am only happy to help. After all, I have a vested interest in the global situation in supernatural maintenance. Britain would like our population of supernaturals to stay manageable, but we've had problems lately with French supernaturals who don't understand our rules causing trouble. It's in everyone's best interest for a more balanced approach to be put in place."

Urbain Quincampoix was the minister of foreign affairs, and as such, was the first to be in contact with Sir Integra. Thus, he had the tightest grip on the situation. "I'm glad that we agree. But, where are our manners? Please allow my colleagues to introduce themselves to you as well.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Hellsing." spoke the woman in the blue suit. "I'm Eugenie Munier, the Minister of Defense. I'm very interested in your methods."

"I'm the Minister of Research," greeted the woman in grey, "Sabine Devreux. I look forward to working with you, as well."

"I must admit, I appreciate your more democratic approach." Integra noted, flipping open a folder and skimming through it. "'The Three Ministers.' You're very orderly, so you're off to a very good start. We will go over the details tomorrow, but tonight, we should perhaps focus on having stable foundations. 'Do you have a manufacturer who will make anti-freak weapons?' 'How are you hiring personnel?' 'How are you planning on handling non-offending supernaturals?' All of these are essential to consider as you proceed."

"Finding a manufacturer won't be a problem. The problem with that is that we currently have no knowledge as to how to make weapons and bullets." Eugenie replied. "Temporarily, we have decided to enlist militia assistence in combat areas until we have a set standard for designating actual military personnel that will hopefully replace them, but hiring in all of the day-to-day areas is proving to be a bit more difficult."

"We will provide instruction in our methods as the week continues, but you will most likely have to tweak them to your standards, of course." the Hellsing woman stated.

"I'm not very certain as to how we will deal with non-offending supernaturals, either." Sabine chimed in. "From our understanding, you have designated areas for your supernaturals to live, yes? We are also to believe that the existence of these areas have caused the amount of supernatural-related incidents to decrease as well?"

"That is correct. We would like to show you these facilities as well, but I'm afraid that the official who is in charge of them is currently on leave and will be back next week. In the meantime, we would like to host a panel in order for you to be familiar with supernatural life."

"You mean… We will be meeting with supernaturals?"

"Of course. It is absolutely essential that you become acquainted with supernatural beings and are aware of their unique needs." Integra insisted before gesturing to her assistant. "HELLSING is one of two anti-freak organisations that employs supernaturals, and understanding them is imperative to our success rate."

The woman to the side of her offered a wave and smiled, showing her fangs. It was difficult for the French ministers to not recoil from the realisation that there was someone who wasn't human in the room. Their muscles tensed as they fought the compulsion and their minds raced to reconcile the fact that this otherwise ordinary-looking woman was indeed a vampire. Then they had to do the mental math to reconcile the fact that she was a vampire with the fact that she was a person, not some mindless monster. They were surprised with how trivial the information was to Integra, but realised that she had had the time to get used to it. If they were going to be successful, they would have to as well.

"Are there… many supernaturals that work with you, Sir Hellsing?" Eugenie questioned, taking careful measures in controlling the sound of her voice.

"The vast majority of our agents are human, but we make strides in hiring supernaturals relatively frequently. Just at the beginning of this year, we gained a platoon of all-werewolf soldiers. They're very effective in the field. But more than that, by managing supernaturals by providing the things they need, the number of overall incidents have gone down. While we have people on the premises who are knowledgeable in this field, however, once again, the one who is responsible for most of our policies and procedure surrounding it is on leave. In fact, he, too, is a supernatural- just so you can brace yourself before meeting him."

"And… Is he a vampire as well?" questioned Eugenie.

"No. He's a peculiar and rare type of demon."

In a flash, horrible images of horned beasts with primary-coloured skin sprang to mind. Torture, hellfire, and the stealing of souls soon came after, followed by thoughts of lies and deceit. That was the sort of thing that was talked so highly of?! A sea of questions flooded the minds of the trio, temporarily stunning them, with only Urbain Quincampoix finding the means to speak.

"I feel like I may have an idea of who you are referring to." spoke the man in the polka-dot tie. "One of my underlings followed a pair of demons who visited our country. According to him, they were bizarre, didn't 'act' like demons, and said they were on their honeymoon."

"They are the same. Sir Jim Phantomhive and his husband, Lord Ciel Phantomhive. They're actually on a trip for their anniversary. He's right, they are odd. What I wonder, however, is why you kept that a secret from Iscariot when you knew about it."

"Because we were still in the beginnings of our plans to expel them. We were curious about the agents of HELLSING, and happened to discover a pair of supernatural agents. From his report, they seemed like an ordinary, although very eccentric, couple. I am a bit worried about Mister… what was his name? 'Phantomhive?' I'm worried about the legitimacy of that, given his species." Mister Quincampoix explained. "After all, demons are known for their lies."

"We have run many tests to gauge their ability to feel empathy and affection. Neither of them have the narcissistic tendencies of the average demon and both express genuine concern and distress when the other is in peril. The unique circumstances of their conception are also considered to be a factor. They never stopped being human, it seems, even after their bodies became demonic." Integra explained, folding her hands in front of her. "Having met both kinds, I assure you, there is a distinct difference. Sir Jim, in particular, has an excellent grasp on what people need in order to survive, but also prosper. He is also realistic, however, and balances the practicality of applying policies with his idealism. He will have you a blueprint for policy on non-threatening supernaturals very quickly, as soon as he knows some basic information about your situation."

"Our situation is a bit dire." Sabine sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "While many supernaturals have been leaving, after Iscariot pulled out, there became a spike in incidents and unfortunately, we aren't equipped to handle them. We have a small team of soldiers set aside for our needs, and we are looking to hire a few militia groups, but none of that will help if we don't have any means to combat the threat."

"So you're thinking of a more aggressive approach?" Integra questioned. "Providing basic necessities is something that you can do_ now _to lower the amount of violent attacks. The risk won't disappear, but I'm confident that it will be reduced."

The trio paused and whispered amoungst themselves in their native tongue for a moment before turning back to Integra. "Please elaborate." beckoned Mister Quincampoix. Although not really convinced, the group was eager to get started. It would take a lot of work and some assistance, but they would soon have their very own organisation, the "_Organisme des Recherches Supernaturelles et des Activtes Paranormales-"_Their very own "ORSAP."


	42. Bone Apple Tea

Bare feet thumped against the deck of the posh "cabin" in the woods before their owner launched himself into the air and into the water with a mighty splash. Jim may not be fond of the ocean anymore, but fresh water was fine. When his head surfaced, he shook it, getting rid of excess water in the least practical way possible before slicking it back against his head. He looked different without the volume his hair usually had and with his bangs out of his face, he had an almost completely different vibe. Almost. In every other aspect, he was the same menace that he always was, only this time, he was a menace in swim trunks.

"Cold!" he yelled, his voice echoing off into the distance, prompting him to laugh at himself. Regardless of the discomfort, he was still in high spirits as he lazily floated on his back and enjoyed the sun. He kicked his feet, trying to make as high of a splash as he could while making as much noise as he was able.

"So much for peace and quiet." Ciel observed from his place on the deck, reclined in a chair in his own swimwear. He folded his newspaper and placed it aside as he turned to watch his beau. He smiled, happy that Jim was happy. "Aren't we supposed to be enjoying the tranquility of nature?"

"Yeah, but it's too quiet, y'know?" Jim answered as he floated back over to the deck. He turned over, resting his arms on the concrete surface as he addressed his beau. "I'm not used to tranquility and all that. Freedom is a prison, Ciel. I'm institutionalised! I need structure lest I return to crime!"

"You almost got into a fight our first night here before anything even happened. If it took you that little to start being a little n'er-do-well, then you probably needed to get away from it for a bit pretty badly, didn't you?"

"Psh! I'm a thug by nature, babe. Natural born, one-hundred percent scoundrel. A little rest and relaxation ain't gonna cure that!" The blonde laughed and spoke proudly of his delinquent tendencies. "It's just that I usually have to be responsible and stuff. Be lady of the manor, and all that."

"You still go out back and shoot things, so you still have your outlets at home. I do understand a bit, though. Structure is comforting, so it's easy to become a bit anxious when one is supposed to be relaxing. Personally, I sort of wonder if lounging is the best use of my time."

"Right! It's like you're not relaxing effectively! You start to wonder: 'How can I utilise my relaxation time more strategically' so you can get the most out of it, but then you start worrying and it becomes a chore!"

Standing up, the bluenette stretched a bit before walking over to the edge of the deck. "There's something seriously wrong with us." he said before sitting down, lowering his feet into the water and letting them dangle there. "It's probably the mental illness or something."

"Probably, yeah." giggled the menace before moving over to his husband, holding onto the other man's knee instead of the deck and resting his chin on top of his hands. "I'm probably just going to play some stupid games like I'm a twelve-year-old or something."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"I'm a responsible adult, you know. Responsible adults don't do that."

"Perhaps, but you do recall that you're Sir Jim Phantomhive, yes? You've never been stuffy and it would honestly be strange for you to start now. If you didn't play silly games, then I'd be very concerned." Reaching down, Ciel thoughtlessly ran his fingers through wet locks of blonde hair. "Just be yourself. No one expects you to be some poncy twit who's too good to have fun, especially here."

"I know. It's just kind of hard to shake the idea, sometimes."

"Well, I, Lord Ciel, the Earl Phantomhive, hereby give you permission to act foolishly." playfully stated the Watchdog, putting on a serious face and sticking his nose up in the air for a moment.

"Alright… Then I'll do this!" With a smirk, Jim took hold of his husband's leg and pulled, trying to force him into the water, but Ciel did not go along with it quite so easily.

He placed his palms firmly on the concrete and used his superior leverage to thwart Jim's plan, pulling the blonde out of the water with a swing of his leg. Jim landed on top of his husband, his hands slapping against the floor, his cheeks turning a bit pink as Ciel reached up and cradled his cheeks.

"You're very pretty." Ciel said, closing an eye as a droplet of water fell from Jim's hair and landed just beneath it.

"So are you. It's not often that you don't wear your eyepatch outdoors. I like being able to see all of your handsome face."

"Well, we're isolated out here. There's no one who's going to see me, so it's fine to have my eye and scars out."

"So, you're saying that we're all alone out here?" With a laugh, the menace leaned down, closing his eyes only for warm hands to leave his cold cheeks and instead rest on his shoulders. Then, with a shove, Ciel sat up and sent the other man falling backwards into the water, arms flailing and landing without grace. When Jim resurfaced again, Ciel was laughing at him.

"It's not going to be so easy every time, darling." laughed the Watchdog with a haughty grin. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Oh, my love, you wound me! I'll have you know, my intentions were entirely pure! Just a quick little snog."

"Right… I bet."

"We haven't fooled around in the woods in a while, though, huh?"

"Jim..."

"Yes?"

"It's amazing just how little subtlety you can have, sometimes."

"Just shooting my shot, Ciel. Just shooting my shot."

Leaning back again, Jim floated some more, closing his eyes and listening to the muted sound. He could hear the sound of water moving as it covered his ears and feel it rushing through his fingers as he paddled himself further out. It was a nostalgic feeling. It was a content feeling. Sighing through his nose, he thought about how he used to go swimming with Luka and bathe in the river that ran through the village. Sometimes, it was simply while they were waiting for their clothes to dry after scrubbing them, every few weeks, but other times, it was just for fun. Once, one of the local boys stole Jim's trousers while they were sitting out and Jim had to chase him. The bastard threw them in a mud puddle so that Jim had to wash them all over again. He remembered that the next time they met. The kid lost a baby tooth a bit earlier than he needed to.

Jim and Luka would catch frogs and other things, sometimes for fun and sometimes to eat. With these memories on his mind, Jim gasped as he felt something brush against his leg. Eyes snapping open, Jim stopped floating and swam upright, looking down at the water. Then, with a grin on his face, he disappeared into their depths and was gone for quite some time. Ciel squinted as he stared out, keeping track of the blonde with sixth sense, but having no idea what on earth he was up to. When the menace surfaced again, he had his fist held high over his head, clenching the tail of a fish tightly in his hand as it thrashed about.

"I got lunch!" the blonde proudly declared, causing the other man to blink.

"I can see that!" Ciel replied as his beau swam toward him. "You wouldn't happen to know how to dress a fish, do you?"

"Kind of! I used to eat them with Luka, so it'll be fine! If I forgot, there's always Youtube!"

The baronet hoisted himself out of the water and onto the concrete deck without any trouble, although dealing with the fish was cumbersome. It wouldn't be for long, though, as much to Ciel's horror, the menace held the fist against the ground with one hand and with the other, punched it. It stopped moving. Ciel had no idea what kind of face he was making, but from the blonde's reaction, it was something, as he immediately came out with:

"I used to use a rock, but I don't have one on me."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to." the menace somewhat bashfully stated. "You probably wouldn't like it, anyway. I was just going to cook it the way I used to. It would probably be a bit bland for you."

"How did you used to cook it?"

"Throw it on a fire."

"And?"

"That's it. We didn't have spices or sauces or anything." Jim said. "I could probably find something in the kitchen, though."

"It's fine. I think I'll try it your way, first." Ciel replied.

"Really?"

"I'm curious. It's like getting a little peek of the old 'you.' It's interesting when you tell me about berries when we go on walks together, and you seem excited about it."

"Uh, well, you get excited when you get to eat things you really liked as a kid, too, don't you? It's nostalgia, I guess. I know it's definitely not going to be great and there's probably better things I can make with this fish, but I kinda crave stuff like this, sometimes."

"Right. I understand. There's this risotto dish that always makes me remember the time when my father and I made it for my mother when she was sick. I don't remember what it's called, but if you put it in front of me, I'd know it."

"You cooked?! You never told me about that!"

"I was little! I don't remember a lot, anymore, but I remember pieces. I remember him wearing an apron borrowed from one of the maids."

"That is not at all the image I had of him from the pictures..." Jim grinned. "You have to tell me everything! Why did the Earl cook? That makes a lot of things make sense, though, now that I think about it..."

"He was a funny man. But you're right, both of my parents were odd. I suppose that's part of why I'm able to get along so well with strange people." Ciel chuckled. "But before I get into that, you should probably do something with that." he said, pointing down at the fish on the deck. "It's bleeding everywhere..."

"Ah! I'll start dressing it…" Abruptly, the menace stood up and headed inside through the sliding glass door on the side of the building. Before he left completely, however, he poked his head back out. "Let's swap stories while it's cooking!"

He said that and ventured into the kitchen with the implication that Ciel would wait outside near the fire pit while he was working, but Ciel's curiosity was in full bloom that day. Getting up, he poked his own head through the door and was able to see into the kitchen, with the open floor plan of the place. Black flames appeared in Jim's hand, revealing the knife that Ciel had given him with the brass knuckles on the handle. It was hardly the right tool for cooking, which made Ciel even more curious, prompting him to move closer.

"You want to watch?" Jim questioned, looking over his shoulder at his husband. "It's kinda gross."

"I think we both know that I can handle it." Ciel answered. "There's knives on the counter, you know."

"Hm? I guess, but it doesn't really matter. Sometimes, I didn't even use a knife for this; I just sharpened a rock. I only had knives if I stole them. Not an easy task for a little kid, since my victim, well, had a knife!" he paused, staring down at the fish for a moment. "Ah."

"What is it?"

"I need somewhere to put the guts. If I throw them away, they'll stink up the place. I'll just go toss them in the woods somewhere."

"Jim… You're an amazing person, you know that?"

"Huh?"

The menace carried on while Ciel observed, surprised at just how much the menace knew. Ciel would never had guessed. He certainly would have struggled to do it if Jim asked him to, so instead, he watched very intently as the blonde carefully washed his hands, then the meat, and then his hands again. There were moments where he paused, either trying to remember the steps or trying to carry them out with the more "proper" tools he had, but he got it, and got two halves of the fish onto a pan.

"We need some wood and kindling, now." he said, covering the fish before putting on some shoes. Ciel did the same, throwing on a T-shirt before he followed the menace outside. While he was alright while they were both playing by the lake, he didn't feel comfortable traipsing around in the woods with his shirt off for some reason, especially since he didn't know how long it would take them.

He didn't know that there was so much to gathering firewood, either. Green wood smoked instead of burning and they needed multiple sizes. The smaller sticks went on first and then the size gradually grew as the fire grew strong enough. Jim built the pile in the concrete fire pit out on the concrete deck and Ciel was the one to actually light it. Once it was ready, Jim finally put the food out on it.

"I don't actually know if this is going to work, but it'll be cool if it does." he said as the two curled up on one of the outdoor couches. "If it doesn't, I'll just catch another one for supper and do something else with it."

"You don't have to do that."

"Well, I don't want it to be a disappointment, since I keep hyping it up."

"You're not, really. You're actually putting it down quite a lot." Ciel pointed out, causing the other man to pause. "Even if I don't like it, you're still allowed to, regardless of my palette."

"Huh. You're right, I guess."

"Either way, I still find it interesting. I'm learning new things about you, this trip. It's nice."

"Yeah, and… Uh, it's a little embarrassing, but..."

"But?"

"I'm really glad you're interested in this. It's really exciting, y'know? I haven't done this in ages! I'm surprised I still know how!"

"Excited?"

"Yeah, kinda..."

"I think it's a bit more than 'kinda,' but that's alright."

"You should tell me that story." Jim stated. "The one where you cook with your dad? He seriously wore an apron?"

"A maid's apron. The poofy kind." Ciel said, smiling wider as his spouse cackled. "I borrowed a hat from the chef."

"Little tiny chef hat Ciel! I would kill to see that!"

"I believe you."

"Actual murder."

"I love you, too, darling."

Somehow, they wondered if they had run out of stories to tell to one another, but as they were discovering, there were more than either of them could imagine. It wasn't as though there were never any happy memories from their childhoods, it was simply that they forgot. In refusing to talk about the past, they both were missing out on it. Ciel told his story about making food with his father and Jim told his husband about all of the things he used to find in the river.

"You were a cute kid!" giggled the menace while flipping the fist over with a pair of tongs. "I just wanna pinch your little cheeks! You should put those old pictures of you up sometime. It's family history. Also, I want to see them again."

"You had to beg me the first time!" his husband laughed back. "You were definitely cute, too."

"Oh, yeah? What evidence to do have to prove it?"

"You're cute now and therefore, were probably cute as a child. Case closed."

"Magnificent detective work, Mister Watchdog. You deserve six medals for that."

"I have to disagree with you, there." Ciel stated, clicking his tongue as he watched his beau remove the pan from the fire. "True justice would be being able to see you as a cub." The Watchdog snorted, shaking his head as he saw the menace use his hands to move the fish onto a pair of plates instead of the tongs right in front of him.

Leaning back with a plate now in his lap, Jim sucked the juice off of his thumb. "Puppy Ciel will always be superior in terms of cuteness." he said, tearing off a piece of white flesh and putting it in his mouth. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but his face melted into a rather content smile as the taste of fish filled his thoughts.

Ciel thought it to be a bit uncouth of the blonde to eat fish with his hands, but logically, it made sense to him. He doubted that Jim had silverware stashed somewhere when he was a kid, so this was just part of the "Jim Macken experience" or some such. Thus, looking down at his plate, the Watchdog hesitated for a moment before doing the same. "When in Rome," he supposed.

It was bland. It tasted like fish and nothing else, but that was just because that was exactly what they were eating. There were no herbs, no spices, no zest, not even a pinch of salt or pepper. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't really the sort of thing that Ciel's sophisticated palette really found enjoyable. He did feel like he understood the menace a bit better, though. It explained his food choices when they ate out, and why he didn't particularly enjoy eating at "fancier" places. Jim didn't like dishes that used a million ingredients because it overwhelmed him. What was a symphony of flavour to some people, he found to be just pure noise. He liked pub food because pub food was simple.

"So, how is it?" the menace questioned, stirring Ciel from his thoughts.

"Educational." stated the bluenette rather cryptically, but he took another bite, so it clearly wasn't terrible. With an arch of his eyebrow, Jim noticed his spouse drift back into deep thought, causing him to wonder what exactly was so fascinating about plain fish. The answer was simple, though: with each bite, Ciel felt as though he understood the menace more clearly. Still, by the end of it, he seriously wanted a bit of lemon and some salt, perhaps.

All that was left of the fish was skin, after a while. They put their plates in the sink, washed their hands, and realised that they might have ruined the owner of the cabin's pan by putting it in a fire. After brushing their teeth and ridding themselves of fish breath, they relaxed some more, enjoying the view while enjoying each other's company.

"Maybe next time, you can cook for me." Jim jested with a cat-like grin. "I can get you a poofy apron, too, if you want."

"I don't know… The more I think about it, the more I wonder just how much I resemble my father, now." the Watchdog said. "Somehow, he was able to balance both being the Queen's Guard Dog with being a funny family man, so perhaps going a bit soft isn't such a horrible thing after all."

"Are you going to play silly games when we have kids?" The blonde was teasing, but still, Ciel blushed a bit.

"I hope so." Ciel stated. "I worry that my pride will get the better of me, though."

Pausing, his husband's grin softened somewhat. "I don't think it will. Not much, at least. You'll be a great dad. Probably a bit fussy, but great, all the same."

"I'm not fussy..."

"You're the fussiest." Jim playfully replied, but quickly after, he sighed. "It's been three years since we agreed to talk about it already, hasn't it?" he asked. "What do you think? Yea, or nay?"

"Wh-what? You mean-? Uh, well..." Ciel looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. His cheeks were a bit rosy as he thought about it. "I think- I-I don't know…"

"You want my opinion first, don't you?"

"U-Uh… If you please..." sheepishly answered the bluenette.

"I think… I'm not sure if I'm ready yet." Jim rather seriously replied. "We still don't really know if 'plan A' is going to work, or if there's any way for there to be a 'plan B,' if it doesn't. We haven't 'practised,' y'know? And even if things worked, mechanically, I don't know if I'm ready for that at the moment."

"You're right." Hearing Jim's answer calmed Ciel down a bit, now knowing that they were more or less on the same page.

"I feel like I want kids more than I did before, though." the blonde confessed, blushing a bit, himself. After a pause, Ciel shared his thoughts on the matter.

"Me, too." Reaching down, Ciel took hold of his husband's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I want it to be just the two of us for a while longer, but… I don't really think I'll want it to be that way forever. I want to do right by them when we do… have children, but… I don't think I'm ready to take that step, yet."

"No… But I think it's worth talking about. I mean, there's so many factors, here. Not only do we have to think about the 'normal' new parent stuff, but then there's also the fact that we're both men, the fact that we're demons, and oh, yeah… the fact we both work for a secret organisation for whom we sometimes kill people."

"Nice use of 'whom.'"

"Thank you." Jim paused, letting out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm also just not ready to go through with all of that, yet… I still need to sort out my own childhood before I work on someone else's. I want our kid to be… 'normal...' I hate to say it, but I'm scared of screwing them up!"

"You won't. You'd be an excellent father."

"Would I, though? I… I never had any proper parents. The closest I've ever had is Sebastian and Integra, and… Well, that's not 'normal.' My frame of reference is totally wrong, probably. I'm still trying to figure all of that out. Do I even know what parental affection and guidance looks like?"

"You do, Jim. You do." Letting go of his husband's hand, he put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to his side, taking his hand up again in his free one. "You raised Luka for almost half of his life and you still act as a parent toward both him and Revy. Sebastian doesn't handle all of it and do you know who he defers to for major decisions about their upbringing? You. Revy, not so much, anymore, but with Luka? Absolutely. Before we left, what did you say about him getting his ears pierced?"

"'Wait until I get back...'" Jim replied. "I don't like it, but that's just because I don't like that he's growing up."

"It's going to be bad when we have children, too. You're going to have to get used to it, I suppose."

"He wanted to get them pierced because you and Revy do." chuckled the menace. "You're right, but still, it sucks. I hate that Revy's moving out, too. They need to live their own lives, but still. I kind of worry that me wanting to have a baby is partially because of that."

"Do you think it is?"

"Yes and no. Mostly, I just… I dunno. It sounds tacky and selfish, but having a baby is kind of selfish, especially in our circumstance, but… I just want to have one with you. Like, I want to love you, but also love someone with you. That… Ugh! That doesn't make sense and sounds kinda stupid, but I'm not as good with words as you are..."

"I think I understand." Ciel agreed. "Perhaps I am a bit more selfish. I don't really fancy myself to be particularly nurturing, so I wonder if I may be one of those distant fathers who has hardly anything to do with their children at all. I'm still getting the hang of this whole 'playing' thing, just now, as an adult, so playing with a child seems like it would be very foreign to me."

"You take care of everybody in the house, even if it's not in the way a parent would, per se. You've been a great brother-in-law to Revy and Luka, an amazing friend, and the best husband anyone could ever hope for. You are nurturing and you are kind. You just don't realise it, either."

"Perhaps the biggest problem is not knowing ourselves, yet." the Watchdog thought aloud. "Perhaps we can learn, however. We have an eternity to become parents, after all." He paused, staring out at the lake. "Maybe there is something to going soft. I don't think that I can deny that it's happening, any longer. I'm not as brutal as I used to be, so I'm going to have to become a stronger, but gentler person. I need to refine it if I'm going to balance the battlefield with family."

He turned his head to look at his spouse, only to gawk at the incomprehensible face Jim was making. It was like he needed to smile, but somehow couldn't, and also he wanted to cry all at once. Instead of doing any of those things, he lunged at the Watchdog, wrapping his arms around his neck and shoulders and squeezing him tightly.

"Oh, Ciel!" he cooed, nuzzling his nose against his husband's cheek. "I love you so much! I'm so happy for you! Is it weird that I want to have a ton of babies with you, but also I want to kick someone's ass for you?"

"No… at this rate, I think that's pretty normal for this family." Ciel replied, smiling as he held the other man back. "Let's just start with one, for now, and also rough people up only as necessary, alright?"

"Fine, fine, but I do have one remaining question. It is a matter of utmost importance to the Phantomhive family."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"What do you get when you cross a dog with a cat? A fox? Babe, if we had a baby, would they be a fox?" Jim stopped to grin, watching as his beau very slowly started to lose the ability to function. "That made you laugh way harder than I expected it to..."

* * *

**A/N: The chapters are getting longer again... I think it's because I'm starting to relax a bit about not progressing the plot...**

**This is sort of progress, isn't it? You at least learned a thing or two about the characters!**

**I do sort of wonder how to progress, though. It's really a matter of connecting two dots. Once I've done that, we're kinda set. I don't have much more content for this little thing, though. I feel like I should continue it and talk about other characters like I said I would, but also... I'm not sure if I'll get to it? I have no idea what's happening, but that's sort of the way things work 'round these parts, I suppose. **

**Also let me know about what you think about ORSAP from the last chapter. That's a new thing that I want opinions on.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	43. Rebellious Youths

The house always felt strange while the duo were away, but even stranger when they were away on a trip. Waiting for them to come home wasn't unusual, but when they were working, it was as though everyone was holding their breath without realising it as they tried not to think about the possibility of them not coming back. When they were on a trip for fun, however, it was like no one really knew how to act. The house was normal in every other way. It simply felt like something was missing.

Revy had just gotten home. He didn't even change out of his maroon suit before he flopped face down onto his bed, tired from a hard day of trolling monster hunters on the internet. He was planning on practising the guitar that evening, but he had more pressing matters to think about. At work, he had been given an invitation was sent out to various supernaturals that worked there. Some French folk calling themselves "ORSAP" wanted to speak with some supernaturals in order to get used to working with them and to find out what their needs were. Revy didn't want to go. At all. The thought of it made him want to dig a hole in his mattress, crawl inside, and hide there.

He wasn't suited for meetings like that, and since Jim was his brother, he was terrified that they would want him to have a large speaking role and keep badgering him with questions he doesn't have answers to or has no opinion on. It was hard to, being an odd "midway" supernatural. He was supernatural in his deathlessness and origin, but other than that, he was almost perfectly human, although he did have a large appetite. For all he knew, though, that could have just been Jim's body, not him being a revenant. Yet, even though he felt uniquely unqualified, he also knew that his brother would probably appreciate it if he would listen in and report back to him, since this was just a meeting with common folk, not officials and experts. That would come when the menace returned from his trip.

Revy wished that he could at least talk to Jim about it in person, but he supposed that a phonecall would have to suffice, given the circumstances. The plan was just to listen and observe. If he could manage without getting in trouble, it would be ideal if Revy could record audio of the meeting. Jim said that he would make a quick call to ask Integra about whether or not that would be alright and get back to Revy with the answer. It made the revenant feel a bit guilty, really. He knew he was interrupting his brother's vacation and giving him work to do, but Jim insisted it was alright.

"I'd rather know and have a plan than be surprised. I've never dealt with these people before, so I'd like to be on top of things. I'll give you some questions to ask, too." he said. "Thanks for doing this for me."

He meant that and Revy knew that he meant that. Still, they talked awhile longer, with Jim's instructions on what he needed Revy to do eventually turning into the two of them reporting what had been happening. Jim talked about going swimming, eating fish, and his run-in with the moto-cosplayer, and Revy talked about the various goings on around the house. Luka was still coming up with ways to get Jim to say "yes" to letting him get his ears pierced like Revy's and Ciel's, since none of the other adults would take him until Jim said it was alright. Revy had bought some new guitar strings, and Finnian still always somehow seemed refreshed after working outside all day. His boundless energy was somewhat terrifying, but he took care of the garden very well. Despite it being burned in the winter, it was at full splendor, mostly through Finnian's work, although Jim did give it a little magic to help the flowers grow. Meanwhile, Sebastian was keeping things afloat just as he always did. Revy talked about how he still couldn't figure out how the butler could stand to wear black wool in the middle of summer, but according to his brother, not being bothered by heat was just part of being a demon.

Their conversation was put on hold, however, as the front doorbell rang. Now, in an ordinary household, this may or may not be considered out of the ordinary, depending on where one lives and how often one personally expects company, but expecting company was very rare at the Phantomhive estate, especially when the two heads of households were away. No one, apart from perhaps Lizzie, or some such, should have any business, there.

"Hang on, I'm gonna go take a look downstairs." Revy told his brother, keeping the phone against his ear. "Someone's at the door."

"Stay on the phone." Jim instructed, wanting to hear this. His entire body became tense and still as his listened, both brothers knowing that it could be something harmless, of course, but there was also the potential for something horrible to happen.

When the revenant arrived at the top of the stairs in the foyer, he watched as Sebastian approached the door. "Sebastian doesn't look suspicious about it." he said, hearing his brother exhale on the other end of the line.

"It's probably nothing, then."

"It's a girl." Revy stated. "I can't hear what's going on from here."

"What's she look like?"

"Snooty? Old-fashioned? I'm gonna get closer." Descending the steps, he heard more snippets of their conversation. "French? She wants to talk to Ciel."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, not her..." Jim's mouth moved away from the receiver to talk to his husband, but Revy could still hear him. "It's Renee. What's Renee doing at our house?" Revy could hear Ciel saying something in the background, but couldn't hear what exactly it was. "She wants to hang out, probably. Sebastian will tell her we're not there and it'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"Alright?" Confused as the revenant was, he trusted his brother's judgement and was subsequently not worried about the vampiress' prescence, but that all changed in an instant when Renee spotted him.

In an instant, her eyes lit up before her brows furrowed and she straightened her posture before addressing the butler again. "I wish to talk to whomever is next down the chain." she stated. "It is very important that I properly deliver him the news myself to pass on to Lord Phantomhive. It is in extremely poor taste for him to hide from me, especially so blatantly." She pointed behind the butler with her eyes, prompting the demon to follow her gaze.

Silently, Sebastian and Revy debated on what to do. Sebastian was clearly apologetic while Revy was very shocked. He was still wearing his suit, apart from the jacket and had a strong resemblance to Sir Jim, with whom Renee was already aquainted. Thus, she correctly deduced that they were related somehow, and, since Revy was indeed the next oldest in Jim's line, he was indeed "in charge" as the representative of the Phantomhive family. Revy, unfortunately, was very much not enthused by this. He may have looked like someone who was in charge, but he felt like someone who was very, very, not. He and Sebastian needed to figure out what to do quickly, however, as Renee was not going to wait for more than a few seconds.

"I'll… I'll pass on whatever you need me to." Revy begrudgingly relented, coming the rest of the way down the stairs. Sebastian stepped to the side, allowing the woman to stand inside the foyer as Revy politely reached out to shake her hand. He could see how her eyes bulged as they met his naked ones, which irritated him. He knew his eyes were strange, but the least this woman could do was politely pretend not to notice. At least he bleached his hair recently, so it was comparitively normal-looking than it usually was. He wanted to try having white hair, but it came out with a slight hint of blond, even paler than his brothers, but the resemblance was more uncanny than it had been in years. "I'm Revy Macken. I'm Jim's younger brother."

"Pleasure." the woman blinked with a small nod, still staring at the man for a moment before seemingly coming to her senses. "Mademoiselle Lapointe- Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe. Pleased to meet you." She offered a curtsy, prompting Revy to stiffle his discomfort by pressing his mouth into a thin, straight, line. He was neither smiling nor frowning. He was just simply aware of her gesture- very aware and very unaware of how he should respond.

"Well, uh… Mademoiselle… I..." The revenant trailed off, looking to the butler for help, his eyes full of desperation. Sebastian, however, was unsure of what to do, only for a look of genius to grace his features. Wildly, he began to talk with his hands. Raising his eyebrows, Revy nodded. He looked at the woman briefly enough to maintain the illusion that his attention was on her, but continuously looked past her, reading Sebastian's words.

"The pleasure is all mine." he said with surprising amount of confidence. He winced a bit, realising that he sounded nothing like himself, but that was the point. For once in his life, he needed to don the mask that his brother wore whenever he dealt with nobles. Then, once the woman left, he would be able to shudder all he needed to. In the meantime, he filled in the gaps with flourishes in order to make it seem like less of a direct translation. "I do apologise that you came all this way, only for no one to be here... _'Chin up...'" _Blinking, he straightened his back, and tilted his chin upwards, adopting a more posh stance. "Chin up!" he said with an awkward smile. "My brother and brother-in-law will be back in a few days, but I will gladly ensure that your message gets to them!"

"You're too kind, Mister Macken." the woman replied. "I do wish that I could speak to the Earl directly, but the fault is partially mine, as I should have announced myself first. It was wrong to assume that he would be here whenever I wanted him to be."

"Well, the Earl is a very busy man. It's rare for him to take a vacation. Surely, you must have had… a reason to be in such a hurry to speak with him?"

"Indeed, I do!" Renee practically beamed. "I would like to disclose the particulars in a more private setting, however." Leaning a bit closer, she whispered: "It isn't the sort of thin a servant would understand or really needs to be privy to."

"Uh… Yes, well…" Revy looked to Sebastian, only for the woman's eyes to follow his and very abruptly, the demon forced his arms behind his back as he stood still. He offered a polite smile as if he had not heard her and was not in fact the maestro behind this performance. Revy, however, was on his own until their unwanted guest looked away from the butler. He floundered, his mind racing as his mouth gaped, but he thought quickly and came up with a half-baked reply.

"You see, Mademoiselle, we currently don't have any space that is suitable for… a woman of your pedigree to be entertained in." he said. "We… we had a bit of a problem earlier in the day, you see, and with the short notice, we haven't been able to quickly fix- _rectify_ the issue in a timely manner, so you'll have to forgive me for denying your request."

"Then we can talk here, I suppose, but surely, you can send him to tend to the matter, yes?"

"Uh, well..." Again, Revy looked to Sebastian, only for the woman to follow his gaze yet again!

She furrowed her brow. "Forgive me for lacking tact, Mister Macken, but are you alright? You seem awfully ill at ease..."

Revy raised his brows yet again as an idea struck him. Offering the woman a smile, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, well, to tell you the truth, Mademoiselle Lapointe, I am not feeling too well." he said. "You'll have to forgive me, but this is my first time tending to the household like this in the absence of the Earl and Baronet, and between this and the… the disaster that has befallen the green room, I'm afraid I'm finding myself in a very, very, vulnerable position at the moment."

Renee turned her head to face him again, prompting him to put on a show of shuffling on his feet. It seemed to work at endearing him to her somewhat, as she offered a chaste giggle with her hand covering her mouth. "That's quite alright, Mister Macken." she replied with a somewhat irritating glint of patronising amusement in her eyes. "It is very difficult to know exactly how to govern the household at first, but I'm certain that it will _eventually_ come to you with _relative_ ease." The way that she put emphasis on the words "eventually" and "relative" got under Revy's skin. "I will just inform you of my news and leave you to it, then, shall I?"

Careful, Revy, careful… He crushed his annoyance down as he was close to getting what he wanted. "If you would be so kind..." he answered.

"Well, Mister Macken..." she began, straightening her back and trying to maintain a regal air to herself. The corners of her mouth twitched and tilted ever-so-slightly upwards as she smoke, however, shattering all chance of keeping up appearances. "I wanted to inform Lord Phantomhive that I have been called to a meeting with the leaders of the French supernatural organisation! 'Organisme des Recherches Supernaturalles et des Activies Paranormales,' I believe they are called."

She said this as though the queen herself had invited her to dinner, but it did in fact go completely over Revy's head. He didn't catch a single word of that. Although he understood sign language, he had only taken French in secondary school and he didn't make much effort to remember it. He was too hardcore for that, after all. He somewhat regretted his choices, now realising that it would in fact have been very useful to him. Still, he knew that it still probably wouldn't have done much good, because the woman spoke French seemingly at the speed of light.

"Other people will be there, of course. Other supernaturals." she clarified, bringing herself back down to earth for a moment. "Apparently, they are very interested in what important members of the community and French supernaturals who have fled France have to say!"

Revy didn't want to say it. He didn't want her to know, but knew that it would be awkward if she saw him at the meeting too and he didn't say anything. "Oh, really? I've been invited, too. A lot of supernaturals from different parts of the organisation are going. I'm going because Jim will still be gone that day. I need to take notes for him."

"Oh, that's wonderful! I suppose I'll see you then!" With that, she was eventually coaxed into leaving, but offered Revy a very enthusiastic wave before she did. Quickly, Sebastian shut and locked the door behind her before she could possibly change her mind. When the butler turned around, he saw Revy standing there with his hands tangled in his hair. Before Sebastian could ask him what was the matter, he let out a loud yell before turning around and heading for the stairs.

"Are you alright, Revy?" questioned the butler, watching after him, but Revy was not alright. He was very not alright.

"She's so annoying!" shouted the revenant. "I don't want to go to that stupid meeting and I especially don't if she is going to be there! What if she talks to me the whole time! I have to work!"

"Now, Revy, I've been acquainted with Mademoiselle Lapointe before and I doubt she would do something that would make her appear to be uncouth."

"Still! What if she wants to talk to me afterwards?! What if she wants to be friends?! I can't keep up that posh act that long! I was barely able to do it just now! How does Jim deal with people like that?!"

"Years of practise, I believe." Sebastian answered. "All you have to do is graciously decline if she wishes to speak with you again. After that, she cannot reenter your sphere- in theory."

"What do you mean, 'in theory?'"

"It depends on whether the master declines to allow her into his social circle completely or not." the butler explained. "He outranks you, so both of you are to defer to him. If he allows her into his circle, then you may have to speak to her again, since you are already apart of his circle. She abides by old social manners, I'm afraid. There is no use in trying to reason with her in a modern fashion, it seems."

"Ugh!" Revy sounded a bit like his teenaged self again. The revenant turned around again and started back up the stairs once more. "I'm going to go… play some obnoxious guitar music!" he grimaced between his teeth, knowing that the butler wouldn't approve of what he actually wanted to say.

"Alright, Revy. I'll come up later with a snack for you."

That is how most of the second floor of the Phantomhive mansion became overrun by the loud sound of an enraged guitar as Revy vented. It went a full half hour without any sort of interruption, but no one can play the loudly and not irritate those who are nearby. Subsequently, Revy found himself with an aggitated demon banging on his bedroom door.

"Shut the hell up!" Luka shouted over the music as his fist pounded against the wood. "Turn that shit down! I have fucking homework to do! Just shut up!"

Sebastian was downstairs, so the youngest of the Macken brothers was free to swear, but that didn't mean that Revy appreciated it, despite being in the wrong. In his temperamental mood, he actually walked over to the amp and turned the volume up instead of down, only making Luka angrier. The pounding on the door grew louder and more aggressive before Luka started kicking the door instead. Then, with one last kick, the revenant jumped as a loud _crack_ rang out behind him. The sound of wood crunching made his stomach drop. He turned around and saw a large crack toward the bottom of the door.

"Hey!" Revy set his guitar down and rushed over, unlocking the door and violently swinging it up and sticking his head outside. "You little shit! I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

Unsurprisingly, there was no one there. You see, Luka understood the gravity of what he had done. This was not a cheap door. It wasn't particularly expensive, either, but its necessity to Revy made replacing it a bit of a pain since the revenant really enjoyed his privacy, so Luka knew right away that he would not be happy. He knew that Sebastian would not be happy about having to deal with taking care of the issue, he knew that Ciel would not be happy about him damaging his house, and he knew that Jim would not be happy paying to replace the door. Thus, he did the only thing that he was able to think of. He ran for it.

He was already partway down the stairs when Revy started after him and he was already out the back door when Revy started his descent. Luka ran through the garden, nearly ramming into Finnian as the gardener crouched on the edge of the path and tended to the plants. The demon brushed against the rim of the man's hat, knocking it off of his head, but the string underneath his chin caught it, causing it to hang loosely around his neck instead of falling to the ground.

"Sorry, Finny!" Luka called out as the gardener watched him run away, leaving Finnian with a confused look on his face.

"Where are you going, Luka?" Finnian called out, cupping his hands around his mouth as he stood up, but the demon disappeared amoung the hedges. The gardener placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, knowing that the boy probably had gotten into something he shouldn't have. He started to crouch down again and get back to work when he heard the back door swing open again. This time, he rolled his eyes and kept at what he was doing as the sound of Revy's footsteps grew closer.

"Did you see where Luka went?!" the revenant frantically asked, his chest heaving.

"Toward the woods." replied the gardener, waving in the general direction the demon went in. He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he heard the other man let out an enraged, yet incomprehensible noise.

"If you see him again, let me know." Revy instructed before stomping back to the house.

All was quiet and Finnian continued with his work. He stood up again and stretched before bending down and picking up the bucket he had been throwing weeds into. He sniffed once and walked down the path a little ways before setting the bucket down again and starting over. There weren't many weeds in the garden, as it was treated for them pretty regularly, but the garden was big enough that it would take him a few more hours before he could reasonably call it clear. Before he crouched down again, he turned back toward the house. While his senses were dull when he first started working at the estate in the late 1800s, he was a lot older now and was able to know when he was being watched, so lately, he was able to tell when Sebastian was sneaking up on him.

A smile graced his face and was matched by the man clad in black as it had become a bit of a game between them. "I caught you." the gardener stated, pointing a finger at the butler. "It's not like you to be so bad at this, Sebastian."

"Oh? But you have no idea how long I have been out here, now, do you?" Replied Sebastian in jest. "Besides, I wanted you to notice me. I'm looking for-"

"Luka. He's in the woods."

"Right. Thank you." With that, the butler handed Finnian a bottle of water and kept walking. "You need to start bringing one out here with you. Don't get dehydrated. There are popsicles in the freezer if you need one."

"It's fine. I have this ice pack thing on my neck." Finnian uttered a sigh. "It's really making a world of difference."

"Sun screen." the butler turned slightly as he asked.

"Yes, Sebastian."

With that, Sebastian nodded, satisfied that the gardener was alright. He continued on toward the woods, knowing that the real game of hide and seek would be with Luka. While Luka was a much younger demon and his power was very weak, he could still sense Sebastian very clearly, as opposed to the vague feeling that human beings got when they were being stalked. Sebastian would have to be careful and quick, or else the boy might run further into the forest.

Thus, the hunt began. The further Sebastian went, the closer Luka was to being in his radius of senses. This radius was much larger than Luka's, so the older demon knew where his target was long before Luka had a chance of sensing him in return. He hid himself amoung the branches, taking the high ground as he kept his senses trained on Luka's location. He didn't have to see Luka, but he needed to pay attention. Slowly, the butler advanced until he was just on the edge of Luka's range. The boy still couldn't sense him just yet, but if he moved any further, it would tip the younger demon off. That was why Sebastian needed to know exactly where Luka was. Sebastian needed to charge the lad and overwhelm him before he could react.

Everything was silent and still. Muscles tensed and footing was adjusted until Sebastian felt that he had a clear shot. When the timing felt right, he shot out of the trees like a panther and extended his arms out as he drew near the Macken boy. He could see Luka's feet shifting as he prepared to run away but Sebastian was too quick and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Hoisting the boy up into the air, he let Luka dangle over the forest floor.

"Language, Luka." he chastised while the younger demon swore up a storm. "You don't want to be in any more trouble than you already are, do you?"

"That's not fair! Revy started it!" Luka snarled, reaching up and holding on to Sebastian's fist as it gripped his collar. "He turned the music up when I told him to turn it down!"

"And he is expected to offer you an apology, just as you are for breaking his door."

"Let go!"

"If I do that, then you will fall..."

"Ugh!"

"You and Revy both like making that noise." Sebastian noted. "You know what you did wrong, now accept responsibility and make amends. You don't want to run around the forest forever, do you?"

"And what if I do?!" demanded the younger demon. "What if I WANT to stay outside?!"

Sebastian paused, his eyes narrowing, but smiling, all the same. He had an unmistakable devilish glint in his eyes, causing more fear in Luka than dangling him did. "That can be arranged." he said simply. "Very well. I will discuss it with Master Jim. If you give up and knock on the doors, and I do not answer, he will have granted your wish."

"Huh?" Luka blinked, his expression surprised, but otherwise blank. Then, as Sebastian's grip slacked, the Macken let out a yelp as he fell to the ground, landing directly on his hindquarters. He winced, sucking in air through his teeth as he rubbed his tailbone to inspect the damage done to it. After recovering a bit, he looked up in order to glare at the butler, but the man clad in black was gone. He had dissappeared like Luka had dreamed up the encounter. He couldn't even sense him anywhere, but he could hear the trees chuckling at him.

"Fine!" snarled the Macken, standing while dusting himself up. "I'm used to living outside! This'll be easy!"

Thus, it was so. No one came outside to look for him, even as it began to get dark, but that suited Luka just fine. It was summer and Luka had already knew what to do, more or less. He knew he needed shelter, but that was already taken care of. Being the habitual outdoorsman that he was, he already had a bit of a "fort" stashed out in the woods. It was basically an "Eeyore house" made of sticks tied together. Some of them were fastened with a few rusty nails he found in the gardening shed and hammered in with a rock to make them more sturdy. A tarp might be a strange thing for a teenaged boy to ask his guardians for, but one covered the structure and lined its floor, making it waterproof. Unfortunately for him, however, that was all he had. Everything else, he would have to find or make on his own.

Next his agenda was fire. He didn't have any blankets, so he knew he was going to need it when night came. Jim taught him how to make one a long time ago, and he remembered what the firepits his brother made looked like, so he figured that he would be alright. He cleared the area of anything that would catch fire, kicking leaves out of the way and checking the twigs to see if they could be used as firewood. Then he went off in search of rocks, collecting as many as he could and stacking them in a circle. Jim didn't always do this, he recalled, but the more permanent pits like the one outside the abandoned shed they lived in occasionally did and he figured that he might come camping out there again sometime, so it seemed like a good idea. Next, he needed something to burn and a way to light it. Problem was, everything he seemed to find was damp.

Damp, damp, damp, and damp! The sticks he found were soaked through and leaves were still waxy, green, and new. By the time he found enough to start the fire with, the sun was almost set, and it took him even longer to to find enough to feed the flames with! Fortunately, being a demon, he could see in the dark, but it was still a chore to deal with! Used to, Jim would always help him, so it went much faster than this. Then, there was the issue of actually lighting the damn thing, and it was the hardest part, Luka knew.

Sometimes, Jim would have a piece of flint and some other rock or a knife. A lot of the time, though, he used a string tied to a stick like a bow and wrapped it around another stick so it drilled into the kindling. Luka remembered one time very clearly when Jim had to use his shoelace, only for it to snap. That night was very cold and Jim swore up and down about the loss of his lace as it made it harder to run. He needed to be able to run in order to be able to steal and get away from the local kids and adults.

Thus, with great unease, the younger Macken sat down by the pit and took unlaced one of his shoes. He didn't have a lot in the way of kindling, but he did have lint in his pocket. He searched all of his clothes, scraping the seems of the inside of his shirt with his fingernails and gathering up as much of it as he could. He didn't think it would work, quite frankly. He knew that lint was very flammable, but that was part of the problem. He thought it would burn up before it lit any of the sticks on the pile and he was right, but he didn't have anything else to burn. He checked all of his pockets. He checked everything. He looked in his fort, he thought about what he could find in the woods, but he couldn't find anything that was dry enough. He checked his pockets again and then he checked his shoes to see if there was maybe a tag or something inside that he could add to the pile when he had an idea.

His socks. He didn't need socks, really, did he? Sure, it would be suspicious if he came back with one sock missing, so he could just burn the other one and no one would ever know. What's being down one pair of socks? There were more at the house. Once he had won against Sebastian and made his point, it wouldn't matter anymore and he could go back inside. Thus, he took off his shoe and put one of his socks on the pile, saving the other one in case he needed it.

It was getting colder out. Luka wasn't wearing a jacket because it was warm during the day, but things were different now. It wouldn't kill him, but he wanted that fire. After setting the sock down on the pile of sticks, he placed the lint on top of it and put the stick he would be using to rub against it in position. He wrapped his shoelace bow around the first stick and began to move it back and forth, prompting it to spin, but he couldn't figure out how to hold it. The friction wore at his fingertips, but his fingertips also made it harder to catch light. It slowed down the spinning, but he wasn't sure how else to hold it, as it fell over any time he tried something different. Maybe that's why Revy has such rough fingers. The middle Macken said that it was good for playing guitar, but Luka didn't want to think about that, as it was Revy and his stupid instrument that got him in this situation in the first place.

Luka grit his teeth and furrowed his brow, growing as he struggled to get the fire going. "Come ooonn… Come ooooonnn… Fucking light already! Stupid..." The shoelace came untied. Luka threw his head back and wanted to throw the whole thing into the trees, but knew that wouldn't help him any. So, he paused and took a deep breath before getting back to work.

Why was he the one who had to be outside? It was all Revy's fault. He was the one who wouldn't turn down his stupid music. He was the one who had to be a jerk, not Luka! If anyone should be out in the dark like this, it should have been him!

Why didn't anyone come for him, too? Did Jim really tell Sebastian it was alright to leave him? Would Jim really do that? Luka didn't think so. At least… No, no, he didn't think so. Maybe Sebastian lied about telling Jim. If that were the case, surely the older Macken would be mad at him when he got back. He wouldn't have let this happen.

...Would he?

No, no, he wouldn't.

...But what if he did?

Did Jim think Luka would be alright out there? Sure, Luka knew a lot about living outside, but he hadn't in years, and Jim was always so overprotective that Luka didn't think that he would ever let him try it. At least, he wouldn't let him try it without him or Sebastian with him. Phantomhives, and by extension Mackens, had to be strong, though. Revy went to bootcamp when he was around fifteen and both Jim and Ciel were hardened assassins and spies around the same age. Compared to them, Luka knew he was incredibly soft. He had some street smarts and he was definitely ride or die when he needed to be, but out of all of them, he was the one who was the most ordinary, wasn't he? That sort of scared him. It sort of made him feel small. He didn't like being coddled and looked after, so he liked that he was getting the chance to prove himself, but… what if he failed?

Light emitted from the bottom of his stick and he could smell smoke. His eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. He could do this! It was just like it used to be! He would show Sebastian what's what easily!

Then, he felt something wet on the back of his head. He looked up and flinched as a droplet of water landed on his cheek. As it rolled downward across his skin, another landed on his forehead, and then the back of his hand.

Oh, no…

The air smelled wet. The air was wet. The ground and everything on it would soon follow.

"No!" Luka yelled. "No, no, no, no!"

He looked down and watched as his embers slowly ate at the sock he sacrificed. He watched as water landed on the wood that he had taken hours to collect. He watched as a perfectly aimed droplet of water landed smack dab on top of his fire, snuffing it out.

"FUCK!"

Quickly, Luka gathered the wood, dropping bits and pieces as he shoved it into the back of his fort. He needed it to stay dry if he hoped to try again later. But, even as he was able to save a bit of it, he couldn't save it all. He was soaked to the bone with no fire and no progress to show for it. There was no point in trying to save the rest. Defeated, he dropped it where he stood and slunk under the tarp. He sat there with his arms and legs huddled close to his body for warmth. He knew he wouldn't die, but it was certainly uncomfortable. He didn't even have Jim there to help him stay warm.

As the rain continued to fall, his anger extinguished, leaving behind only the damp as water even collected in his eyes. Resting his forehead on his knees, he lamented his situation. There was no way that he could do this. It was impossible, now. He failed.

What was he even out there, for? It was Revy's fault, wasn't it? But he chose this for himself, didn't he? If he didn't defy Sebastian and just talked to Revy like he was told to, then maybe he wouldn't be freezing and wet in the middle of a pitch black forest. Still, he couldn't believe Sebastian let him do this. He couldn't believe that Jim had let him, let him do this. Why? Why did he do that? Why would Jim do that? He knew how much Luka relied on him during that part of their lives didn't he? He knew when Luka didn't realise, yet he allowed Luka to go. Was it to teach him a lesson? Make him be more grateful to his older siblings? What? What did he want?

Maybe he just wanted Luka to grow up? That wasn't fair. That wasn't fair at all! Luka thought he was grown up but Jim knew that he wasn't! He knew, but he still let him do this!

Yet Luka chose this. He chose to run away. He chose to stay outside. He chose not to apologise for breaking Revy's door. Maybe Jim thought that Luka would have made the right choice eventually. Maybe he didn't think that Luka would be so stubborn. So childish. The longer he stayed out here, the more Luka imagined Jim worried. He could picture Jim pacing around the cabin he rented with Ciel, babbling on the phone, asking Sebastian why he hadn't come back inside yet. Maybe Jim wanted Luka to make the right choice to come back and take responsibility for what he did. The right choice- the adult choice, not the pretend-adult one. Lifting his head again, Luka stared out into the darkness ahead.

"Sebastian!" he called out, shouting for the butler to come find him. "Sebastian!"

He leaned forward and crawled on his hands and knees, peeking his head out of the fort as he decided to leave. When he did, no raindrops hit the back of his head, and instead of plain dirt, he saw a pair of black shoes in front of him. The butler stood over him, wearing a smile as he shielded him with the umbrella in one hand. With the other, he reached out to Luka, prompting the lad to take it and allow Sebastian to help him to his feet. But Luka didn't just stand there. The younger demon let go of Sebastian's hand and instead wrapped his arms around the butler's waist. He pressed his face into Sebastian's chest and hugged him tightly. He wasn't sure if that was weird or not, given that it was Sebastian, but Jim wasn't there, so this would have to do. To his surprise, however, the man held him there, and didn't make a big fuss out of it, despite being a bit surprised, himself.

"I'm sorry..." Luka said, the sound muffled against the man's shirt.

"It's alright." Sebastian replied. "Are you ready to come inside and apologise to Revy?"

"Yeah..."

"Alright." nodded the butler. "Let's go get you dried off and warmed up." he said. "I'll draw you a bath."

"Okay..."

With that, the two walked off toward the house in silence. Sebastian wasn't particularly good at comforting people, but that was alright. Luka understood what he meant. He didn't use words, but there was a gentle hand on Luka's shoulder, leading him home, and that was enough to get the message across.

When they got inside, it was a bit of a different story. Revy was practically waiting by the door and hand a phone firmly pressed against his ear. "He just came inside." he said, prompting Jim to utter a sigh of relief on the other end. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh… He looks fine. Very wet, though. We'll get him taken care of, don't you worry. Yeah… Okay… Love you, bye."

Hanging up, the revenant turned his attention to his younger brother, and while Luka was expecting some smug remark, having showed up the demon and proven his superiority as the older sibling, he didn't say or do anything of the sort. He put a towel on top of Luka's head and with both hands, started to dry him off with it. Luka couldn't see anything, but that's what Revy wanted when he finally spoke to him.

"I'm sorry." he said, beating Luka to the punch. "I shouldn't have taken out my annoyance on you like that. I messed up when I did that. So… sorry."

Luka paused and just stood there, letting Revy continue to dry his hair for him. He had to figure out how he was going to apologise, but ultimately decided that going for it was better than letting it sit for too long. "I'm sorry for breaking your door..."

"It's alright. I'll live." Taking the towel of the boy's head, the revenant wrapped it around his brother's shoulders. "Go take a bath. You're not even a dust bunny. You're more like a mud bunny."

That made Luka laugh a bit. "Okay~" he answered, stepping further into the house, tracking mud along the hardwood store as he went. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the sight and uttered a sigh, but he ultimately smiled as he put his hands on his hips, glad that all was well once again.

"Both of you are one hell of a handful..." he thought before dropping his hands back down to his sides again. With that, he went to draw Luka a bath and find a mop, and things moved on like usual once more.

* * *

**A/N: Greetings, humans. **

**I'm sorry that this chapter is late! I was really sick last weekend and couldn't really do anything. This week was weirdly busy, too. It's like I got thrown several curve balls and they all hit me in the face.**

**But that's college, I guess.**

**I haven't written about Luka and Revy in a loooooonnnngggg time. Sometimes I start writing for them and think "This is way too hard! Who are these people?!" but it's slightly easier, now that they're both older, for some reason. I wonder how that works? **

**Luka's being a little n'er-do-well. I think he probably comes by it honestly, though. I'm still trying to figure out what kind of person he's going to be...**

**I like Revy's little "love you" to Jim in there. Did you catch it? That's some real character development, right there, lmao.**

**I wanted to do one more like, "catching up on everybody" chapter and then get into plot (I keep saying that and it's always "one more," isn't it?) but that might not happen. I might just go into it. Depends on how much fun I have writing for these guys. If it's not fun, I'll skip it, probably.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	44. The Ill, Ill-Fated, and Ill at Ease

There were clear skies overhead as the sun beamed down on old buildings and cathedrals and kissed the faces of people walking on the street. The sound of horns honking went off periodically up and down the streets. Walking along, one could catch whiffs of cigarette smoke wafting from the terraces outside of cafes and see lolipops in the bakery window, but that wasn't the focus of the man with odd-coloured hair that this chapter will be focusing on.

He walked briskly with his head held high and a knowing smile on his face, but the corners of his deep blue eyes never crinkled when he grinned. He had a masculine jaw and a handsome face, and in his hand, he rather carefully carried a bouquet of flowers wrapped in cheap, clear, plastic. At the end of each finger that curled around the railing that led down to the subway was a black fingernail and once the man got to the bottom, he made his way over to the platform and adjusted the collar of his turtleneck as he waited. It was a strange thing to wear in summer and people did look at him strangely, but they immediately averted his gaze when he looked at them. The summer heat didn't bother him one bit and neither did the subway.

The man stepped through the open doors and grabbed one of the support handles while others got on the train behind him. Despite the rocking of the train, he remained perfectly motionless until his stop, politely avoiding eye-contact with anyone except for when he wanted them to feel deeply uncomfortable, which was every single time someone stared at him. Between the warm clothes, the black fingernails, and the bluish-black hair, he stood out to a few nosy souls, although for the most part, he simply blended in with the background of the city.

But, there was a time when the subways, cafes, and romantic architecture had to give way to something else. As he reached his destination, he left all of that behind for the sterile environment of a hospital. Cigarettes gave way to the smell of cleaning supplies and medicine as he got in line at the front desk. Patiently, he waited until it was his turn.

"Hello, Mister Stark. Are you here to visit Mister Hambleton today?" the woman asked him. In response, the man answered her just as she addressed him: In French, although he did speak with a very distinct English accent.

"Yes, I'd like to visit him while I still can." he said with a nod and a sincere expression on his face. "I might not get the chance again."

The woman gave him a sympathetic look and touched his hand as it sat on the counter. "Go right ahead. He's in the same room he was in last time."

"Thank you." With that, the man went on his merry way, finding the right room and walking inside. He locked the door behind him.

Tossing the flowers in the table next to the bed, he sat down in one of the chairs and smiled at the person before him. The poor man. Lying there in the hospital bed was a man hooked up to all sorts of wires and tubes connecting him with machines, IV bags, and all sorts of unpleasant things. He wasn't old by any means despite him missing large patches of hair. It all was falling out in clumps and could even be seen sticking to the pillow he laid on. His skin was a deathly palor and his eyes and cheeks were sunken in. The poor man was completely emaciated- thin as a rail like a skeleton that was carefully wrapped in a delicate layer of skin. Truly, there were corpses that looked healthier as the young man whithered away. His body was breaking down, killing him at the mere age of twenty-four. Yet the man beside him did not seem bothered in the slightest, either by his appearance or the fact that he "friend" was at death's door.

"Hello, Caesar." the dark-haired man said. "Oh, sorry, 'Monsieur Hambleton.'"

"You're the one who picked that stupid name..." Caesar weakly answered, speaking barely above a whisper. Having escaped from Britain alive several months ago, he had been running from his part in Abhartach's invasion ever since- or at least, until he needed to come here, to a hospital in Paris.

His condition baffled doctors, as there was no reason according to medical science as to why a man his age should be dying in such a way. His cells were dying, he had already lost a foot that simply gave up on him, and nothing the doctors did could cure him. Caesar knew this. He just went along with their efforts to sustain him in order to humour them. This was simply his nature as a first generation clone. He was made before the technology had been perfected and he had simply reached the end of his natural life span. It was truly amazing that he had lived this long. He tried to live his life accordingly, taking in as many experiences as he could, distracting him from the inevitable end.

Caesar Merritt was dying. He had no friends or family. He only had this demon that was currently hovering over him. That was a scary thought, but Caesar didn't have the energy to be too frightened, especially since whatever this demon wanted to happen was going to happen, as he hadn't any means to stop it.

"What brings you back here?" he asked. "Did you get everything you needed done?"

"Just about. There's a few more pieces I need to find and fit together and I'll be set." the demon answered. There was a pause.

"Let's cut to the chase." Caesar stated. "I don't have much time, here." He couldn't turn his head, but he was able to move his eyes and see some of the demon next to his hospital bed. "Are you here to eat me?"

"Hm. Good guess." replied the demon. "But not quite. You might not like it, but you might, just as well. Either way, I'm here for your soul."

"Damn." the sickly man closed his eyes. "If you ate me, I wouldn't care. I wouldn't care about anything anymore, but if you do something else with me, then what? It might put a damper on my plans."

"What plans would those be?"

"Nothing. Literally nothing."

"Don't you want to live?" the demon questioned. "Not in your current condition, but, I mean, healthy."

"Dunno… Haven't thought about it. No point… I was going to die early and I'm dying right now. There was never any point in worrying about it." Caesar paused. "You're not going to do to me what you did, are you, Johnathan? I don't want that."

The demon smiled. "I thought long and hard about where to put it, you know. I wasn't sure if I was going to put it somewhere else at all, but I thought it would be fun. I was thinking I could put your soul in a baboon or something. That would be really funny, I think. I wondered if you'd act more like a person or a baboon. Or maybe I'd try a bear? I know you like bears, don't you?" Johnathan laughed.

The demon had been killed. He had died when Ciel Phantomhive put an antifreak bullet in his brain, but Johnathan, you see, was a demon. Demonic possession was a well-known phenomenon, so he simply hitched a ride in Caesar's body before placing himself inside of a clone body that he was keeping handy. It wasn't for that explicit purpose, but it worked wonders. Johnathan was originally going to use Ciel Phantomhive's own likeness to injure him, mentally, but this was far better.

He looked exactly like Ciel, only thinner and with both eyes. His hair was parted messily on the left side of his head and he didn't wear earrings, but those were superficial things. Johnathan had the flesh and blood of Ciel Phantomhive at his constant disposal, and that was all that mattered to him. Caesar, however, didn't understand and wasn't enthused.

"I don't want that." the human said, frowning ever so slightly.

"No, I know you don't. Besides, you've been so useful so far. It would be a complete waste." Johnathan stood up again and loomed over him. He smiled, but it didn't seem friendly at all. It was like he was simply going through the motions of being personable. "And I do know that you are very interested in the idea of 'carpe diem,' but unfortunately for you, even if prolonging your life clashes with your personal philosophy, I don't care. It's going to happen. I have a use for you and until your usefulness runs out, you aren't allowed to die."

Caesar stopped to think about this. While the thought of no longer being in pain appealed to him, he was hoping that death could grant that to him. This, however, put a damper on his plans. He was weakened, all but delirious with the pain of his cells dying off, and was extremely tempted by Johnanthan's offer. If it would mean that he would be rid of his current state faster, then he wanted it, but he also wondered exactly what sort of life Johnathan was offering him. Either it would be simply an additional amount of time to live and without the agony that he was currently in, or, Johnathan would curse him with the gift of life, causing him further misery and cause his yearning for death to be prolonged even further. Furthermore, if that were the case and if Johnathan made good on his promise that Caesar would not be allowed to die so long as there is a use for him, Caesar would rather die right then and there.

"Does this have to do with what you were doing after you left me here?" Caesar asked.

"That is correct. I'm glad to see that your brain hasn't rotted yet!" the demon answered. "I hope you aren't bothered because I didn't visit you, but you must understand, I was very busy. Even though I'm familiar with the way arms dealers do business, they aren't exactly easy to find- but I found one, though, run by some fool who's as stupid and heartless as he is rich off of his daddy's money. You really need to see him, Caesar, he's too perfect! I just let him see a little taste of my demonic nature, and his wallet and his ambitions are both mine."

"You're making an army again? What for? W-" The sickly man was interrupted by a coughing fit. Specks of blood spattered the white sheet while still more dribbled from his lips. "Tur-! Turn me- o-over!" he forced out between coughs. With what little energy he had, he tried to move himself so that the blood that was building up inside of him did not fill up his lungs. "I'll drown!"

But the demon did not move. He just stood there, observing Caesar with the same curiosity as one would observe an animal going about it's business. "So you don't want to die." Johnathan stated. "Good for you. This seems like as opportune as a moment as any..." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he opened up a tin cigarette holder- one that Caesar used to use before he couldn't anymore. Once, it had belonged to Caesar's "father," making it the most sentimental item that he owned, despite Caesar's claims that he had no love for the man. That made it much easier to use for Johnathan's purposes.

Opening it up, he placed the open cigarette holder on top of Caesar's forehead. The man tried to wrestle his hand out from under the sheet, but was far too weak to resist. He grew weaker and weaker as the demon's eyes glowed a crimson red and until he could no longer move even just a twitch. Slowly, Caesar's eyes lost their luster, yet "he" still coughed on reflex, now no longer in control of his body or his mind. Johnathan's smile widened, satisfied with his handiwork before closing the cigarette case with Caesar inside. Very carefully and delicately, he put the case back in his pocket and peered down at the empty shell that he had left behind. He arched his eyebrows and tilted his head, fascinated by what he was seeing.

The body was still "alive," ask it was still functional to some extent, and it writhed as it choked and gasped for breath, drowning on its own blood. He wanted to see what would happen if he just left it. How much longer would it last without the soul animating it? Would it just give up and die? He wanted to experiment with that sometime, but knew that someone would be through there to inspect the body and wonder why he did nothing to help poor "Caesar." So, he very slowly leaned over and smacked the "call nurse" button a few times before going back to his observations. He'd hit the button a few more times to act like there was a sense of urgency, and then spun around and played the part when the nurses finally did arrive.

"He's choking!" Johnathan shouted in English before switching to French, stumbling on his words in order to appear frazzled. "What's happening to him?! What's wrong?! Get a doctor in here for Christ's sakes!" In the chaos of it all, he was shooed outside of the room to wait, and he did watch the door for a moment, but soon, he began walking down the dimly-lit, sterile, corridor, doctors, nurses, a few patients and the family of patients, along with a janitor or two. None of them paid him any mind. They were all busy, just like the nurses and doctor in Caesar's room, so he was able to disappear from the hospital entirely without any effort whatsoever.

The smell of blood and medicine left him as he stepped outside, instead finding himself immersed in the smell of the City. It was somewhat difficult to decide which one was preferable, yet, he had no reason to turn back. He had what he came for, and unless he inexplicably had a used for Caesar's body, he had no reason to return. Thus, he carried on, walking away and vanishing into the crowds as if he were an ordinary man- not a demon with a human soul in his pocket. Hundreds of people walked past him, all of them none the wiser as to just how close they came to one of the most dangerous species on the planet.

And that was the way that it should be. Things were most convenient, that way, and it would only get easier and easier as Iscariot cleared out of the country. Johnathan was sure of that. Johnathan would make sure of that. He got on the train again, smiling wickedly to himself. It was a devilish, almost sickly grin. His eyes held no fondness for anything and the overall air around him felt heavy. People moved away from him until he finally got off at his stop. The handsome man with bluish-black hair, bringing flowers to his dear friend was indeed a monster, and he wouldn't let anything get in the way of that- especially not something as inconvenient as death.

* * *

**A/N: I thought really hard about whether or not to reveal this now or not. I actually skipped another less consequential chapter because I really wanted to type this. Remember when I said "one more silly chapter and then plot?" I lied. Here's plot. I decided it made more sense to give you the information now, so that things would add up later. **

**Also, I kind of wondered if people remembered that Johnathan actually escaped in that clone body? I don't remember anybody talking about it, so I felt like it was important to put that out there soon before any more people forgot.**

**So that's a thing that's happened.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	45. The Plights of the Bureaucracy

The Queen's Guard Dog was in a one-sided and very fierce battle between himself and his husband. As always, he took it absolutely seriously. His eyes were focused and his muscles were tense as sweat gathered at his furrowed brow. He moved with unbridled ferocity as he attacked, never slowing down and never letting up as he pressed ever forward in his endeavor.

"It's honestly amazing how you can have killing intent when making eggs." Jim stated as he watched his beau from the kitchen table. "You're making me feel hyped just watching you! Did they dishonour the family or something?"

"This is a very serious matter of pride, Jim." There wasn't a hint of playfulness in the Watchdog's tone as he answered. "It's shameful for a man to not be able to make a single thing for their spouse."

"Oh, I see." And the menace just accepting that, knowing that his husband was a stubborn sort that believes all matters of gentlemanly honour are of utmost importance, even if it was simply about preparing a few eggs. More importantly than that, Jim was rather pleased with the situation. He smiled, looking on as his husband worked, only to have his daze interrupted as the Earl frantically began trying to turn off the stove.

"Buggar!" shouted the bluenette. "Uuugh…" He looked at the pan in his hand and stirred the contents with his spatula a bit before setting it down.

"What happened?"

"I burnt it a bit..." The Watchdog stared at the eggs for a while, moving to the plates on the counter and then moving to the trash before heading back to the plates again, obviously confused as to what he should do with them. "Uuuh..."

"Well, bring them over. I still want to eat them."

"Ah- uh… Well… No."

"'No?'"

"If I'm going to do it, I need to do it properly!"

"Give me the eggs, Ciel."

"No. Why do you want them?"

"Give egg."

"What?"

"Present egg."

"No."

"Surrender egg."

"No!"

Jim stood up from the table with a fork held firmly in his fist. Slowly, he advanced toward the bluenette, prompting the poor man to back up until his lower back was pressed up against the counter. He was completely cornered with the lion stalking ever forward, ready to pounce. The menace's knees bent as he prepared his strike, warning Ciel to turn around with his back facing the blonde. When Jim attacked, he had to get around him, grabbing the other man's shoulder with one hand and reaching out with his fork in the other as the bluenette attempted to keep it away from him.

"Lemme get a taste of those eggs, boi!" ordered the menace as he fought against his spouse, trying to wrestle him for his breakfast.

"What in blazes-?! Jim! What are you doing?!"

"I'm craving your burnt eggs, that's what!"

"Jim!" Despite his attempt to scold the blonde, the Watchdog chuckled as they played their little game of "keep-away."

"Are you just going to let your poor, dear, sweet, husband starve? I'm wasting away, Ciel." Jim said very casually, not even bothering to try and stifle a laugh. He started to make process in reaching his prize, prompting the bluenette to take further evasive maneuvers. The bluenette moved to the side, attempting to turn the tables and trap the menace between his back and the counter, but in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as the menace backed off for a moment and swept around the bluenette, appearing in front of him, and lunging again. Yet perhaps both Jim and the Watchdog himself had underestimated Ciel's competativeness when it came to the blonde, only to realise this far too late after Ciel tried to get around his beau. Elbows were bumped and a pan full of scrambled eggs fell to the floor.

Then, there was silence. The quarreling had stopped. There was nothing that could be done about what had just transpired, leaving the two men to stare at the eggs on the floor. Oh, how cruel fate was. Ciel had no idea what to do. He opened his mouth to suggest he try to make a new batch, when the menace crouched down. The Watchdog sputtered as he watched his spouse calmly scoop the eggs onto a plate and take a bite. Jim stood back up, nodding in approval before setting the plate down on the counter.

"Needs a bit of salt and pepper, but not at all bad!" the menace stated, rummaging through the cabinet for spices.

"Day after day, your savagery never ceases to amaze me..." Ciel finally stated, knowing that he was perfectly powerless to stop the other demon.

"Hey, five-second-rule. They're still good."

"That was much longer than five seconds!"

"You don't have to eat the floor-eggs. I, however, am going to appreciate what I have been given because I am grateful, my love."

"I could have made you more eggs, you know..."

"Wastefulness is the mark of the bourgeoisie, Ciel. I will not be swayed by your capitalist ways."

"Well, just brush your teeth when you're done, I suppose." Indeed, there was no point at all in attempting to fight against Jim's ridiculous antics. If Ciel became outraged with every instance of feral buffoonery committed by his spouse, then he would have no energy at all for when something actually important came up. That was the way he saw it, anyway. More than that, however, the Watchdog accepted that loving Jim meant loving his eccentricities as well, and truth be told, he wouldn't have it any other way. One might think that a man of his class and conservatism would prefer a docile, prim, and proper lady to be married to, but he found no appeal whatsoever in the idea. Jim was interesting and he understood and accepted Ciel's own nonsense, like his physical aversion to wearing T-shirts in public with the exception of going to the beach or somewhere similar, or how he insists that he remakes Jim's food when it is anything less than perfect on the first try. He felt honour-bound to be useful to his beau, it seemed, but he was slowly adopting some of Jim's philosophies and habits as time went on. It was in the same way that Jim slowly adopted Ciel's sense of honour, integrity, and dignity, along with a few other romantic values. He wasn't going to ever be the same as the Watchdog or even have the same opinion on these ideals, but he could see the appeal and felt as though his life had improved since caring about them, somewhat.

Thus, Jim ate his floor-eggs rather happily, and Ciel let him do it. The Watchdog was somewhat fascinated by how wild Jim was being on this trip in comparison to usual, but he supposed that it was good for him. He knew that Jim never really felt like he fit into posh society and Ciel would never even dream of trying to force him, but Ciel also believed that getting Jim out of and away from the mansion on occasion might be beneficial.

"I wonder what you would act like if you lived by yourself..." the bluenette thought aloud. "If we never wound up in a relationship, but stayed friends and didn't kill each other, how often would you eat off of the floor?"

"Oh, everyday. Get some extra proteins and minerals. It's nutrition."

"That's disgusting."

"Go marry Lapointe, then. She's keen."

"No, she's really not my type. I have a preference for men, but my tastes are pretty much the same: Mischievous, clever, can defeat me in combat, and has a cat-like face."

"That's very specific… Why a cat-like face?"

"They're pretty and cute, obviously."

"Huh… I feel like I'm learning all sorts of things about you, this trip..." Jim noted, taking another bite.

"Likewise."

"It's gonna suck when we get back… I have to talk to the French… Not that there's anything wrong with the French, specifically- it's just that I don't want to talk to people about work and I know that the whole thing is going to entail a lot of it. I've already started thinking about how I'm going to present the information they need to them… It's too much… Too much about infrastructure and culture and all~ kinds of shit… But, you can't really trust humans to do it on their own, I guess..."

"I'll help you out however I can, like always. If you need an interpreter, I'll be happy to help."

"Thanks… I really wish I didn't blow of French class in school, now… You've had it for more than a century, though, so it'll be fine on that front, at least. You don't even have an accent, from what I hear… Then again, I don't hear a lot of French, normally."

"Sebastian wouldn't dare let me speak it the British way… Language lessons were hell, honestly."

"Heh… 'hell.'"

"You stop that."

Jim would have to put his plans into action once he arrived home, but he still had another two days left before his return. His brother, however, was not so fortunate. Revy donned his black suit and put on a semi-ordinary-looking tie. He bought a journal that he thought a "real" adult might have to take notes in and took it and a pen that cost way too much money to the meeting between ORSAP and some of the prominent supernaturals of HELLSING and in Gehenna. He wrote down the questions that Jim had told him he should try and get answers to and was by all practical means, prepared for it, but truly, he didn't feel ready at all. These were people who knew what they were talking about, he assumed. He didn't think he was one such person, so he wasn't sure exactly how he was going to pull this off. The poor revenant was a bundle of nerves and he just prayed to whatever higher power that would listen that he could make it through this without making a complete fool of himself.

He looked the part. He looked competent and like he was supposed to be there. Yet, when it came time to get out of the car and start walking to the front door of HELLSING Headquarters, a wave of repulsion waashed over Revy, telling him that he should not go. That was not a place for him. That was Jim's place and he certainly wasn't Jim- not by a long shot. It wasn't that Revy felt inferior to the menace in some way, however, it was simply a matter of that not being his job. He knew that his brother would feel equally lost if he asked him to fill in at the Media Management Department for a day. Does Jim even know how to use a computer? Revy's pretty sure he did. Wait, Revy should go inside, probably.

Luckily, Sebastian was invited, too, making Revy's job rather minimal. Revy suspected that Sebastian was going to end up being the one to do the work, causing him to suddenly realise that there wasn't a lot of reason for him to be there. Unfortunately, he realised this in the elevator, just as they reached the floor they needed. Peering down the hallway, he could tell which meeting room that his was supposed to take place in, as it was the only one with the door open and with supernaturals he recognised filing inside. Standing by the door was Audrey, pausing for a moment to afix his hearing aid. Sebastian and Revy approached from his right, however, so he heard them coming. The reaper glanced up and smiled at them. His shoulders visibly relaxed as a bit of relief washed over him.

"Hey, it's the Phantomhives!" greeted Audrey with a small wave. "Filling in for Ciel and Jim?"

"Yes, we are. The masters are still on their trip and won't be back for another two days." Sebastian replied. "We're going to report back to them about the proceedings."

"Good for them. Kris and I were gonna take notes, too. We were a little worried since Jim wasn't going to make it!" confessed the reaper. "Luckily, there's enough experts here to keep things going, I think. The only two humans here from our side are Integra, Miranda, and some bloke from Supernatural Relations."

"That's good. Though personally, I'm not really sure why I'm here." Revy answered, placing his free hand in his pocket. "I don't know how any of this stuff works."

"Moral support, probably." suggested Audrey. "Everybody's a little nervous, since Jim isn't here. It probably makes them feel a bit better to have a Macken around, even if you aren't exactly the guy for the job."

"Don't know how I feel about being a substitute for him. Doesn't feel great, if I'm honest."

"Yeah… I can see that." the reaper nodded before offering a shrug. "The Mackens are considered peacekeepers to Gehennans, though. At least, that's what I got from a bunch of drunks in the Wolf's Glen."

"Why are you associating with drunks in The Wolf's Glen?" Sebastian questioned, arching his eyebrow.

"Getting pissed with Supernaturals is way more fun than getting pissed with humans and nobody else will give me a veteran's discount."

"On booze?" asked Revy.

"Nah… They have a great potion for getting rid of colds, you know."

More people filed into the room, prompting the trio to decide that it was probably best to join them. Given HELLSING's flair for the dramatic, Revy wasn't at all surprised to find that the meeting was taking place at an impossibly long table with Sir Integra on the end closest to the door and the Three Ministers of ORSAP on the other. Luckily, there were microphones in front of each seat so that shouting was unnecessary, but there were so many people, that some had to stand. Sebastian was punctual, however, and therefore, so was Revy, allowing them to sit wherever they pleased. Audrey chose to sit close to the members of ORSAP so that he could hear them, and since Revy didn't know too many people there and thought that the reaper was arguably one of the coolest of his brother's friends, he chose to sit next to him, with Sebastian taking the seat on his other side.

It was mostly HELLSING staff who were that early. Seras Victoria took her seat next to Integra and Amelie and Charlotte Garou were in attendance. The people who knew Amelie were curious as to whether she would speak up at the meeting, since French is her native language. She sat closest to The Three Ministers with her wife sitting across the table instead of next to her on the other side of them. They were assigned to catch any mutterings that the trio engaged in and report it if it was deemed suspicious. Not everyone there, however, was given such a role. Miranda Ackerman, Wink, and Dafydd Blake from the research department were all there to share their expert opinions on ORSAP, as they would most likely be working with one another very soon in order to make sure that ORSAP staff were properly knowledgable about the supernatural. Roger Winry of the Supernatural Relations Department was there in order to represent yet another department that ORSAP would need to work with, as an expert on supernatural communities and interacting with the supernatural public. Meanwhile. Claire Whelan and an associate of hers represented the faoladh as they, too, had some expeirience with integrating themselves into both supernatural society as a whole, and into an organisation like HELLSING.

While these were more "official" experts, they were not the only ones there. Many who sat on the town council in Gehenna were there to provide insight and express concerns. These were supernaturals who were chosen to represent their community to HELLSING and propose laws and policies that HELLSING could reject or deny. Jim often sat in on their meetings as the representative they made their proposals to. Each of them was a pillar in the community.

Mister Glen Li, the weretiger who was the manager of the local bank arrived and sat down. Revy swore he saw the colour drain from the ministers' faces as he did. It wasn't unusual for humans who were seeing a supernatural who was so visibly inhuman for the first time, but Revy had to admit, there was something about the image of a tigerman wearing a suit and glasses looking through his notes that was fascinating. Mister Li directed a faun by the name of Marian Allsopp to the seat next to him and scooted over a bit so that there was space for her to prop her white cane against the table. Miss Allsopp was a lawyer who handled predominantly money manners, so the two were acquainted. Lewis Knaggs, both a mailman and manager at the Post Office was in attendance, as was Forsetti Sybil, the local judge. Chief Tegwen Sybil of the Gehenna Police Department arrived with her girlfriend, Kyung-Soon Park, the head of the Girasol vampire coven. Logan Kendrick, local woodworker and expert on supernatural homes was in attendance and strangely wearing a suit instead of denim. His boyfriend, business owner Kristopherson Miles had made it for him and arrived dressed unusually tame, himself. Jeffery Steele, the owner of the general store and a hybrid supernatural showed up in his own suit made by Mister Miles, as well. He sat next to Doctor Amy Womack, a vampire and dentist who had notes from her collegues over on Medicine Street about the situation.

All of them were eager to put in their two cents on the situation. While none of them felt as though they would ever be personally affected by the situation if ORSAP failed, they were determined to make life better for the supernaturals of France in any way that they could. The three ministers, Urbain Quincampoix, Sabine Devreaux, and Eugenie Munier, were very interested in what they had to say, but were also somewhat understandably frightened. This was their first time seeing supernaturals that were so visibly inhuman, and combined with the fact that they were now aware that almost everyone in that room was a supernatural, they were unconsciously looking for fangs and claws.

After introductions were out of the way and the doors were shut, the meeting finally commenced. Right away, however, the questions were difficult. "We are all aware that supernaturals who are dangerous cannot be allowed to run amok." Mister Li began, addressing the members of ORSAP. "HELLSING has had systems to 'take care' of these supernaturals for over a century. Yet, there are also systems put in place for ordinary supernaturals like ourselves to be able to live comfortably, greatly reducing the risk of supernaturals committing crimes against humanity out of desperation. My question is: how are you planning on dealing with ordinary supernaturals? What systems do you have in mind?"

"Well," began Devreaux, digging through her papers for a breif moment. "We have received rather extensive notes on how HELLSING goes about tending to the supernaturals. Regular check-ins are good, supplying blood to vampires is essential, but there are also very extensive blueprints for the creation of supernatural cities. While it is probably preferable to have everyone in one location for easy management, we are somewhat uncertain if our government will grant funding for one. We need to carefully weigh the benefits before we can fully commit to doing things the HELLSING way in that area."

"That's understandable, but supernatural communities are a necessity." Doctor Womack spoke up. "There are species like vampires and werewolves who aren't always born with their supernaturality. We don't have families who will teach us how to be what we are in a safe and healthy way, but also, the help of other species is a godsend! Without witches, I wouldn't have the access to shade gel, I wouldn't even be able to sit here, let alone be able to get my doctorate!"

"That's true, and a lot of supernaturals don't have human teeth, so we can't go to human dentists!" agreed Mister Steele, being sure to show off his fanged underbite.

"And how do you plan on distributing blood?" the dentist questioned. "Going door to door for every vampire in the country seems impractical and I highly doubt that you can ship it in the mail. It's easier to just go to the shop and pick up a pack or two when you need it!"

With each talking point, the supernaturals nodded and uttered their approval. Logan wanted to add his two cents about incubi and succubi having trouble feeding in London, but didn't want to overwhelm the ministers with that information. His boyfriend, however, was perfectly fine with speaking up.

"There's some species that can't survive outside of these communities without a lot of difficulty. The Lexington incubi have been having trouble finding food in London, and most supernaturals can't pass as human, so they need glamours to find work. Without the community, though, they can't even do that! More importantly, though, staying transformed like that takes a toll on you, doesn't it?"

"Agreed." Nodded Mister Li. "While I do have a human form I can turn to, I prefer not to. I am a tiger because I am a tiger. Trying to work amoung the humans was miserable. You're constantly on your guard!"

"The point is, Missus Devreaux, is that to supernaturals, these communities are vital." Spoke Miranda. "The creation of Gehenna marked a significant drop in supernatural incidents throughout the United Kingdom. While it didn't get rid of all of it, the supernaturals having the things they need to live comfortably is beneficial to everyone. You should have the numbers on that."

The three ministers muttered amoungst themselves in their native language, which was immediately caught by Amelie and Charlotte. The vampire lifted her hand from the table for a brief moment, signaling to Amelie to go ahead and report. Pulling out a cellphone, Amelie rapidly typed out the basics of what they were saying. In essence, they were wondering whether they could get the funding for a french supernatural city, but also where they would put it. They had no idea if they were going to be able to get the existence of such a place approved by their own government. All realistic concerns, but the people of Gehenna weren't satisfied with that. Still, without any way to make any definite assurances, it was best not to, in the world of politics.

"We will do our best to assure the welfare of our country's supernaturals." replied Mister Quincampoix, folding his hands in front of him. "It may be difficult, but we will do everything we can to secure appropriate resources. Before we can do anything, however, we will need to have a solid blueprint so we can convince our government to acquire a budget for it."

"You will get access to the notes and blueprints of Sir Phantomhive shortly after he returns from his trip." Sebastian spoke up. "He has already left us instructions on where some of them can be found. The Phantomhive household and the Supernatural Relations department have been cooperating to get things organised quickly."

Things were far more complicated than anything that could be solved with just one meeting. No one thought that it would be, but most were hoping for far more progress than this. Unfortunately, it only seemed to enlarge the scale of what ORSAP was going to have to accomplish, leaving the ministers concerned about what it was that they were getting into and the supernaturals of HELLSING somewhat skeptical. While some like Miss Whelan openly muttered about the meeting being a "waste of time" on her way out, there was still quiet optimism about the whole affair as a whole. Mostly, they were hoping that when Jim returned, he could make sense of it all, but perhaps they were resting a little to much on his shoulders. After all, he will have just returned!

Still, even while he was still technically supposed to be on holiday, he couldn't help but delegate orders to the Phantomhive family and to the Supernatural Resources Department staff. Why, just that afternoon, there were going to be several meetings with various departments that The Three Ministers would have to attend to, including one from Roger Winry of the SRD. HELLSING crammed their brains until they were about to burst with information, leaving them ragged as they did their best to process each new, supernatural, thing.

While they anticipated that they would inevitably have to sort out the infrastructure and economics of a supernatural city, they hadn't anticipated a lecture about how the cities appear to mostly support themselves in terms of ensuring that the people are fed and housed after a while. The biggest expense was the initial creation of each city, while the remaining expenses are to give assistance when necessary. Gehenna takes many resources from London and bring them inside the city before money eventually makes its way back out again, while Pyestock has room for agriculture and metalworks. Both cities trade with one another, further sustaining them. Some ideas, however, were remarkably socialist, such as business owners not being allowed to make more than their highest-paid employee multiplied by a certain amount, as to discourage people from hoarding money and thus prevent those who did not own businesses from eventually being able to afford what they produce. While this is an idea that is not very well-received in terms of macro-economics due to lack of testing, the Phantomhive's understanding of micro versus macro economics is such that the system is able to work on this smaller scale. Everything is finely tuned to keep the people who live in these cities happy and stable, thus reducing the amount of preventable supernatural incidents that require violent suppression. The Baronet was clearly some sort of genius, but it still seemed a bit too good to be true. ORSAP would wisely wait to pass judgment until they were able to witness the real thing.

That was only the first of many meetings about supernatural Cities that they would have to attend during their stay in England, but it wasn't the last meeting with the Supernatural Relations Department that they would even have that day! They would take a break to attend other departments before returning to learn about more tedious bureaucratic processes. Everything they were meeting on would inevitably be available to them in reports and manuals, but HELLSING felt that it was important for them to see what they were dealing with, lest they not believe it.

The weapons department showed them a few examples of anti-freak weaponry, but most importantly the bullets. HELLSING bullets were made slightly different from the ones that Iscariot used, but they were both very similar in concept. Both were engraved with the appropriate incantations, although the British used runes. The barrel of the gun forces the bullet to spin as it fires, stabalising it so that it shoots straight. This spin is what prevents the runes from throwing off the trajectory of the bullet, which is excellent design. All modern guns were designed this way, while older guns were much harder to use. Painting the runes onto each bullet did absolutely nothing, as it burned off during the explosion that set it in motion.

One gun in particular, however, caught the group's attention. It was being made as a collaborative effort between the Weapons Department and the Research Department, along with the sword that went with it. Both weapons were pitch black and decorated beautifully. The sword was made with melted down fragments of its predecessor, with other metals and magic imbued within it. It was decorated in runes, making it a deadly weapon against supernaturals, but it seemed impractical for a human being to use. For a human, fighting supernaturals at close range was practically suicide, but for a supernatural? It was perfectly suitable. That also explained the size of the gun that accompanied it.

"No one could hold a gun like that." Munier pointed out, scrunching her eyebrows as she stared at the handgun with vast amounts of skepticism. "The recoil would send it flying from your hands! How do your soldiers use this?"

"None of our soldiers have used it, yet, but it isn't meant for humans." explained Miranda Ackerman as she picked up the gun in both hands. She showed one side of the grip on the handle, showing a HELLSING insignia there, before turning it over to reveal another coat of arms: the Phantomhive family's. "This gun was made for Lord Phantomhive. He's a demon, so he is capable of using much heavier weaponry than humans can. I'm also working on an attachment for a weapon that his husband already has, but it's not finished just yet. Part of having supernatural agents is having weaponry that is appropriate for them to use, which allows our staff to get very creative! They also very kindly allow us to use them in research, so our understanding of their species has grown exponentially in the past few years! In fact, our research has yielded that they are a completely new species of the same genus! According to the data that we've collected-"

"Miss Ackerman, I believe that The Three Ministers have a full schedule, so they probably need to get going." Interrupted Wink before her coworker could get started. "Besides, you can't include everything by talking to them. You should just put it in your report so they can get the thourough explanation."

"You're right!" cheerfully answered the department head. "I need to finish it! I'm only forty-seven pages in! I'm so behind!"

The ministers were silently grateful as Wink opened the door for them and allowed them to make their mistake. The amount of tools used by HELLSING soldiers was baffling- rather, perhaps not the amount, but just the kind. They were overwhelmed and exhausted by the end of the day and returned to their hotel rooms only to land on their beds with a thud. It felt as though their minds had run a marathon, only there was no end in sight. They would meet the next day and discuss what they had seen before going through the mountain of reports that were sent their way. After that, they would need to pass on information and instructions to their respective staffs back home to try and put what they could into motion. Eventually, they would return home and negotiate the rest.

Eugenie Munier was the one who made calls that night, however, having promised she would. As minister of defense, she needed to check up on progress in her field. After getting settled for the evening, she sat down in one of the chairs in her room, adjusted the towel wrapped around her head and sighed. Then, she turned on her phone and dialed the number she needed before placing the receiver against her ear.

"Hello, this is Eugenie Munier. Am I speaking to Mister Honeycutt?"

"Why, yes, you have." the voice on the other end answered in an aggressive Texas accent. "Thank you for calling, Miss Munier, I'm glad to hear from you. You wanted to check in on the troops, didn't you?"

Mister Honeycutt was answering from his own hotel suite while sitting at the dinnertable. At the moment, he, too, was staying in a country he was unfamiliar with, as his new contract with ORSAP required him to stay in Paris, but he didn't mind. The organisation was taking care of him, so he had no complaints. He was the proud owner of a private military company and was eager to find long-term work with ORSAP. The steady income was appealing and as far as he could tell, getting paid the usual rate for his men to handle short skirmishes every so often was a deal too good to refuse! He didn't even have to pay for equipment with them, so he was always very, very, polite to Miss Munier.

"I did, thank you." Miss Munier answered with a smile. "How is progress?"

"Everything's going good! In fact, I had just listened to the report made by Mister Stark, here- he's the one in charge of training the troops, you see." the businessman replied. "If you want to talk to him, he's right here."

Eugenie opened her mouth to speak, but resigned herself to her fate as she heard the phone being passed around. It soon landed in the hands of "Mister Stark." He sat at the other end of Mister Honeycutt's table, dressed in a suit with no tie. He had a strange habit of piling on various spices, seasonings, and accouterments when eating- just anything to give it some semblance of flavour- so his plate was a complete and utter mess, yet he ate it thoughtlessly, as if he were simply going through the motions.

Setting down his silverware, he wiped his mouth before speaking to the minister. "Hello? Is this Miss Munier?" To the woman's surprise, he spoke to her in French. While the accent was clearly English, she was still relieved to finally speak her mother tongue, as she was understandably tired from speaking to HELLSING.

"Yes, it is. Mister Honeycutt said that you were giving a status update on the troops, so he passed the phone to you."

"Yes, he's somewhat like that. He always acts first and thinks afterward." Johnathan smiled at his host as the American man listened in, unable to understand him, but raising his glass, all the same. The demon continued: "Honeycutt's men are all experienced in combat against humans, but fighting supernaturals is slightly different. There is a little bit of a learning curve, but everyone is adopting the appropriate technique very quickly- much faster than it would be if we were training civilians from the ground up. That can be done, of course, once the organisation expands."

"Thank you very much. I'm glad to hear it. It was always going to be a challenge to start up an entirely new department from scratch, but at least some things are going smoothly."

"I'm always happy to be at service, Miss Munier." the demon replied. "Would you like my number so that you may contact me directly?"

"Certainly. There is no need to call Honeycutt, if you're the one in charge of recruits."

Johnathan gave her his contact details, but perhaps more importantly, he acquired hers. The phone number of France's Minister of Defense was in his hands, but he did not gloat. He did not indicate that he was triumphant in any way. He merely made his polite farewells before handing the phone back to his host. As the human droned on into his cellphone, Johnathan stared down at his food before picking up his fork, stabbing the salt, pepper, and oil-soaked mess that was formerly a five-star dish prepared by the luxury hotel that he was currently visiting his associate in, and putting it in his mouth.

"Ah..." Johnathan let out a disappointed sigh. "This doesn't taste, either..."

* * *

**A/N: I like how this began and ended with very different experiences with food... deep and meaningful? Perhaps...**

**Anyways, I'm back! I'm sorry I didn't update last week. It was finals time, and I was busy dying.**

**I got better, though, and here I am!**

**There were WAY more interactions I wanted to put in this chapter... I wanted everybody to talk amoungst themselves more, but I couldn't make it happen! Maybe I'll take a chapter to gossip or something... Then again, I always say I'm going to do something, and then I don't do it!**

**I WON'T do a gossip chapter, then. uwu**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	46. Meanwhile, At The Office

The sun was beginning to set over the Hellsing property, peeking over the large complex that was built as an extension of an already massive manorhouse. Soldiers marched across the lawn and tended to vehicles on the concrete next to the garage, getting ready for the night. While it was possible for supernatural activity to occur during the day, offending supernaturals were often far more active at night.

A car drove up to the front gate and stopped so that those inside could present the guards with their IDs. Once inside the property, the vehicle traversed down the many roads that led this way and that way- to the hanger, to the practise field, to this, and that- before slowing down once it reached the residential area where many of the soldiers who worked at the base lived. There were apartments and apartments, and apartments, but the car parked in front of the newest apartment complex: the one built for the influx of lycanthrope staff to live in.

Oliver pulled the parking break before taking his hands off of the wheel. He turned to the woman in the passenger seat with a smile. "Well, we're here." he said.

"Indeed, we are." Claire replied, pausing before unbuckling her seatbelt. Once it was off of her, and she no longer had any physical inhibitor to stop her from opening the door and leaving, she hesitated again, wanting to say something. Her cheeks were pink and she scowled as she stared forward, refusing to look at the Midford. "I had a nice time." she finally said, although it seemed to cause her physical pain to do so.

"I did, too." Oliver said, finally prompting the woman to look over at him just a tad. His smile only widened as he chuckled. "I hope we can do this again sometime. Only if you want to, of course. I won't make you duel again if you want to say 'no.'"

"No." The woman replied. "I think I would like that. Seeing you again, I mean. Not dueling you."

"Really? Afraid you might lose?"

"Don't assume that the same trick will work on me twice, Oliver. I would destroy you."

"You're probably right." nodded the man. "That's why I was hoping you'd agree without it. Do you want me to call you?"

"I… Isn't it unfair for you to arrange the date twice?"

"Not really. Did you have something in mind?"

"No… I still don't know the first thing about arranging a human date- or,_ any_ date for that matter..."

"Think you've got the hang of going on 'human dates,' though?"

"I am certainly more… comfortable with it, although I don't find myself proficient in the slightest."

"No one really is." said Oliver. "If we both had a good time together, then it was a successful date. I'm just glad I got to see you laugh as much as I did."

"I… Enjoyed seeing you have fun as well." Claire actually smiled a bit at seeing the blush on Oliver's face darken. It was a small smile, but Oliver was more than content with it.

"I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a loss again, however." the woman continued.

"Go ahead." It wasn't the first time during the course of their time together that she had questions about etiquette, and Oliver was always more than happy to answer them. As time passed, it became less awkward when either of them didn't understand the situation or the rationale behind each others' actions.

"I don't know if there is an etiquette to leaving..." Claire somewhat bashfully state, finally turning to face the man. "It feels rude to just get out, somehow."

"Yeah, I get what you mean… It never seems right the first few times, but it gets easier. Sometimes, people just sit and chat for a bit until the conversation dies out, but you can just leave, if you want. Oh! But before you do, you should tell me when the best time to call you is! Your sleep schedule is different than mine!"

"I wake up at dusk and am on call until dawn." The woman's tone was as serious and stoic as ever.

"That long?!"

"Not quite. I wake up at dusk and go do my non-call work until around five in the morning. Then, I go home. I'm just still on-call in case I'm needed at that time."

"Oh, yeah… That's right… It's been a while since I've been in the field, so I forgot!" Oliver laughed. So, if I call you around five-thirty, will it be alright?"

"You don't need to get up that early for me."

"It's fine. Or, we can text so that so that we both can answer each other whenever we have the opportunity."

The suggestion made the woman pause. She had to stop to consider it, as she was somewhat skeptical of approaching someone so informally. Still, she supposed that the whole point of interacting with Oliver like this was to be relaxed and have fun, and as she had learned previously and over the course of the day, Oliver was more than alright with her not being formal. It felt nice to not be so on guard. Even though she felt somewhat out of place in everything that they did together, Oliver always made a point to help her feel as though she belonged there. Thus, she nodded.

"Alright." She said. "That is a good compromise."

"Alright. It's settled then."

The conversation died of natural causes right then and there. Neither of them could think of anything more to say, so the air was silent as the pair looked at one another, hoping that something else would come up.

"Well..." Claire finally said, breaking the silence. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Claire." Oliver replied and with an affirmative nod, Claire quickly opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle in one fluid motion. She shut the door behind her and walked around the car toward the stairs of the building. Her walk was certain and dutiful as always, but slowed somewhat as she looked over her shoulder. There, Oliver was still in the car, making no movement to leave. He offered her a smile and a wave, but that did not satisfy her. Immediately, she turned around and walked briskly back to the vehicle, prompting the Midford to roll down his window to talk to her.

"Why aren't you leaving?" Miss Whelan demanded, leaning down so that she could meet eyes with the man.

"It's polite for the driver to wait until their date gets inside of their house in case they lost their keys." the man stated.

"I never forget my keys."

"True, but it makes me feel better to know you got back home safely."

"I see." She was content with that answer. "Thank you." Once again, she nodded before turning away. Abruptly, however, she leaned down again to add: "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Oliver nodded back. "I'll text you to let you know I got home safely."

"Good." Claire stated. "Goodbye." For the last time that evening, she walked away from him, finding it odd, but somewhat comforting to know that Oliver was watching out for her, as well as the fact that he would let her know that he returned safely as well. What a pleasant custom. She made a note to adopt it herself as she climbed the stairs to her floor. Once there, she looked over the railing and sure enough, the man was still there, just as he said he would be. With that, she carried on toward her front door, but stopped as she very clearly saw the curtains in the window of the apartment she was passing quickly close.

Turning to face the window, she put her hands behind her back and stood confidently and menacingly, glaring at the window with all of her might. She waited a few moments before the door of the apartment finally swung open and three rough-looking women stepped outide, lining up at attention against the wall.

"Welcome back, Ma'am!" they said in unison. They would have looked rather official, had they not still have been in varying stages of getting ready for the evening, with two of them in their pyjamas, still. One of them had foam around her mouth, as she had been in the process of brushing her teeth.

"At ease." Claire instructed. "Is there any reason why I've been watched as soon as I arrived at this building, faoladh?"

The women looked to one another, silently checking to determine what the best answer was. In the end, however, two of them looked at the third, prompting her to be the one to reluctantly speak. "We were wanting to ask you how your date went, ma'am."

Claire narrowed her eyes. She stared at her underlings for a moment longer before walking onward down the corridor. "It was adequate." she said, causing the women to smile. "Adequate" was "good" to the leader of the Whelan clan. Ordinarily, she would scrutinise every single detail about things, whether it be in training or anything else. For her to deem this man "adequate" meant that they had little to worry about, although they were still somewhat suspicious of him. In fact, poor Oliver noticed the curtains on the apartments on the ground floor moving as well, causing him to wave at the people monitoring him.

"But! Just because I have the night off doesn't mean that you can slack off!" Claire practically barked from down the hall. "Kathleen is in charge and I'm having her write me a detailed report. You're dismissed."

"Yes, ma'am!" the trio dutifully replied in unison before scurrying inside. Once the door was shut, they giggled amoungst themselves, knowing that they had a lot to gossip about while the boss was away.

Once ready, they tended to their daily duties with the others in their platoon, counting and maintaining gear, mopping up, and doing whatever else needed done. A few of them sat in a circle, treating the scabbards of their swords so that the leather was healthy and the metal was polished and ready for combat. Some, however, were sewing holes that had been torn in their pouches or a patch that had come loose on their uniforms. All of them sat nonchalantly and talked as if they weren't soldiers who could be called into the field at any moment.

"Do you think they've kissed, yet?" questioned one of them- a faoladh with red hair braided closely to her head and above her eye. Another woman- one with dark hair fashioned in a short fauxhawk answered her without even looking up from her scabbard.

"Nah, she would have killed him if he tried."

"What do you think of him? He seems alright. She wouldn't go along with it if he weren't, even if he did beat her."

"He's a weirdo, if you ask me." said another. This woman had a large mane on her head that was held out of her face with a headband. She had a scar in the shape of a fish on her exposed arm, carved into her arm with a blessed blade for decorative purposes. "He sat there in his car for a long time after she got out."

"Maybe it's a human thing." suggested the woman with the braid.

"I hear he's related to the Phantomhives, and they're all weird, according to some of the folks from the base." Fauxhawk stated.

"Don't you badmouth the Phantomhives, Orla." said the woman with the fish tattoo. "They're the reason you're sittin' there instead of dead and buried or still livin' a lie under you-know-who."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Orla replied.

"It must be nice, though..." sighed the redhead, pausing from her work to rest her chin in her palm and her elbow on her knee. "Most of the people we talk to every day are all girls, so she's really lucky."

"What about Solomon? Think he's cute?"

"Stop it!" the woman with the braid giggled, giving the one with the fauxhawk a playful shove. "He's not that cute..."

"Well, you might wanna give it a shot if you're going to, 'cause there's a lot of other girls who've probably got the same idea." informed the tattooed woman.

"What?! No way! Who?!"

"Saoirse, Sheila, and I think Deidre, maybe..." Orla counted off on her fingers.

"Uuuuuuugghhh! I can't compete with Sheila! The way she handles knives is beautiful!"

"That's true..."

"Hey! You're supposed to support me!"

"I am supportive… of the facts."

The nature of those at the organisation was always strange, but that simply came with the territory. No one else could do the things that these operatives do, which is why they never leave HELLSING for as long as they can. That went for supernaturals and humans alike.

In the research department, the people there approached their own work with similar amounts of enthusiasm and eccentricity. Wink stood in an airtight testing room, staring down at a long, plastic bin full of herbs and sand. She turned off the heatlamps beating down on it and put on a pair of latex gloves before reaching into the mixture and feeling around. Once she found what she was looking for, she grabbed ahold of it firmly and pulled the nameless black blade commissioned for the Earl Phantomhive out of the sand. Holding it steady so that it was horizontal to the table, she sprayed it with a can of compressed air, removing any unwanted grains or debris before holding it up to the light to examine. Satisfied with her findings, she placed the can of air down and grabbed a tuning fork, striking the blade with it and listening to the sound.

Perfect. It was exactly as she had hoped it would be. Carefully, she wrapped it in a cloth in order to both protect it and herself as she returned to the main lab. There, she stored it away until the scabbard was finished, but that was work for another day. She still needed to check on how the treatment of the baronet's weapons was going.

Wink returned to her desk to write her notes on the progress of the sword before proceeding, carefully documenting her process and her findings. As always when she dealt with projects like these, however, she felt eyes trying—and failing- to bore holes in the back of her head. It was best to ignore it, however. Entertaining the irritating warlock would only encourage him, as annoying as it was for him to read over her shoulder. Finally, however, the silence was broken.

"Did you use a tuning fork on it?" Dafydd asked, now standing right behind Wink.

"Yes, Dafydd. I did it right after dusting it off." the witch answered, not looking at him.

"Did you hit the back side or the front?"

"The back, Dafydd."

"You really should have hit the blade."

"Well, you should be sure to do that when you're assigned a sword." Wink stated, not leaving him any room to continue talking to her. He stood there for a moment, placing his hands in his pockets and rocking on his feet.

"Soooo..." he began, drawing it out as he stalled to figure out how to phrase his next question.

"Sir Phantomhive will probably come in to get the Jarnglofar add-on when his husband comes in to get his sword." the woman informed, cutting him off. "Don't talk to him if he does."

"I won't say anything bad to him. I am over it. I just wanted to know."

"Mm-hm..."

"Really, I did."

"I heard you, Dafydd. I'm working."

"Fine. Fine. I'll just… go over here, then." the warlock replied, putting his hands up before backing toward his own desk. "I have things to do too, you know."

"Yep."

"I'm trying to make a potion strong enough to heal deep wounds instantaneously."

"Good luck with that."

"It's going very well."

"That's nice." With that, Wink stood up again and left the room, returning to the lab to work on her next object while her coworker sat down.

Dafydd sighed, sitting with his back turned to the potion station he had set up on his desk. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he wondered what exactly was the problem his coworkers seemed to have with him. They were always so rude, often ignoring him or going out of their way to avoid him! None of them would let him live down his previous mistakes with the Phantomhives, or the "harmless" pranks he pulled on Miranda in the past. Wink even went so far to mock him, gawking at how it was a wonder that he hadn't been fired yet! She was especially cruel to him, and combined with the fact that she was a sorceress, Dafydd felt especially inclined to prove something to her. Warlock magic was notoriously weaker than the magic of witches, hence why Dafydd needed all of his rings and earrings to harness and focus his magic and the magic of the world around him. He didn't like to admit it, but her presence made him feel small. Thus, he needed to do a good job so that she didn't show him up. Unfortunately for him, Wink was a notoriously skilled witch while he was a rather skilled warlock. His rings simply weren't enough.

But what if there was a way to amplify his magical output? He could try more jewelry. Different jewelry. Perhaps tattoos were an option? It wasn't unusual for humans at HELLSING to have magical tattoos, so why couldn't he? Before he could do anything, however, he needed to come up with a plan. He needed to know what spell to mark himself with and how he was going to reinvent his magical instruments.

In the meantime, however, he needed to turn up the air conditioner. It was summer, still, but it was hot! It was getting hotter, too… Wait, what was that smell? It smelled like burning hair?

Dafydd let out a scream as he jumped up, desperately patting the back of his lab-coat and head. His ponytail had gotten caught in the burner at his station that was keeping his cauldron heated. Wink told him a million times to use a lab, but he didn't listen! Now, he was tearing off his labcoat and throwing it on the ground. Still smacking his own head with his hands, he jumped on top of it, all while screaming in both pain and alarm. Finally, however, he felt a burning cold come over his back as everything went white. A coughing fit came over him and he screwed his eyes shut, waving his arms around in order to shoo the mist away while Miranda sprayed the coat at his feet.

When the dust finally cleared, the room was completely silent. Dafydd rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, having regained his breath, but his back felt cold. While he was only able to reach his shoulders, he could feel that the shirt he was wearing had a massive hole burned through it. More pressingly, however, was what he didn't feel on his back.

"My hair!" he declared, feeling the singed stub that remained of his ponytail. He looked around, desperately trying to find something reflective enough for him to use to inspect the damage, but everyone could see it, even if he couldn't. The man's mullet was a mess- even moreso than usual. It would take a trip to the hair salon to fix it, but for that day, he was going to have to live with it. That said, this was still not the worst of it.

"Dafydd..." Miranda began, nudging her glasses further up her nose. "Go to the med wing and get your burns checked out. Then, I want to see you in my office."

Miranda never used her office. She was hungry for research and therefore she always out on the floor. Her office was bad news, as it meant that she was going to use her power as head of the department. Sometimes, it was simply giving orders to focus investigation in certain areas or to assign a project, which were all ordinary and non-threatening reasons to be called there. This, however, was not one of those times.

On that day, Dafydd lost his ponytail, but more importantly, he was demoted. Wink thus took over his role as lead magic expert on the team, while Dafydd was sent home for the day. There was no way that he could be allowed to work in only a fraction of a shirt and besides, he had a hair appointment he needed to arrange.

* * *

**A/N: Please let me indulge in the weird daily shit that goes on at HELLSING aoijgqowiegjalkdjaglh I really love thinking about this shit but I don't always write it! With the positive response to the random politics of last chapter, though, I thought now might be as good a time as any.**

**I was initially going to include other departments, but I couldn't figure out how to extend it beyond the bit with Dafydd? Speaking of Dafydd...**

***Insert "The Evil Is Defeated" gif here***

**The mullet has been destroyed. The world is safer now uwu**

**I mean, there's still unhinged demons obsessed with more well adjusted demons vying for power in the French governement, but, y'know... Small victories.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	47. Downward We Go

It felt like electricity—the sound of the alarm blaring at the young Damien Chaput jolting him awake. Luckily for him, it was no longer class that he had to hurry to, as he was a fresh graduate of The University of Paris- so fresh, that the ink on his diploma wasn't even dry. His apartment was sparse, as everything was packed in boxes. He was moving, but he could still find the basic things that he needed to get ready for his day.

"Evening" was the more accurate term, however, as work required him to get up just before sunset. It felt less painful, getting up at this time than it did the early morning, but as his body got used to the change, it might. Sitting up in bed, he blinked for a moment and rubbed the sleep from his face before going through the motions. There was no point in taking a shower, as he would want to wash whatever grime he got coated in off when he got home. So, he brushed and styled his messy, brown hair- short on the sides, and long and floppy on top- brushed his teeth and got dressed, saving the rest of his gear for when he arrived. It was easier that way. It was easier to move around in public looking like an ordinary person. Thus, he had it all packed into a backpack and took it with him.

Setting out, he locked the front door as he left and got on the subway. Several stops later and he was at the pick-up site, where the car that would take him the rest of the way was waiting. Once Damien moved, he wouldn't need to travel so far, but until then, it was like he was receiving VIP treatment as one of Honeycutt's few supernatural agents.

Headquarters was a somewhat plain-looking building that was still clearly undergoing renovations. It had basic facilities installed and various rooms for the different facets of keeping the freaks at bay. Scanning his ID allowed him inside, where militia members were going about their evening, preparing for the few missions that the agency was able to send people out on, while the rest stayed and helped get things started. A few doctors, tech people, and the like had been given to the agency, but for now, they were operating on a skeleton crew for the time being. ORSAP would get there eventually, but right now, they were in the early days of its conception. Expecting them to be on par with HELLSING overnight was unreasonable.

Still, there was work for Damien to do. The young man went to the lockerroom where he usually put on the rest of his attire and unpacked his bag. He pulled out some pouches that snapped onto his body via a harness and a small container of homemade, black, paint. Opening it up, he dipped his middle and index finger inside and painted crosses over his eyes, obscuring his face. With this, the transformation from harmless, college student to powerful warlock had truly begun.

More items were still to come. A necklace made of gold and gemstones, some earrings, a pair of bracelets, and several rings for each finger. He tied perhaps his most immediately unsettling item around his waist. It was the pelt of a stray cat that he had skinned. Over it, he fastened his belt with the rest of his supply pouches and checked them for each tool that was supposed to be there. Finally, he tied a dark-blue cloak around his shoulders and kept it in place with a pin in the shape of a honeybee. From there, he placed his now empty backpack into a locker and moved on to receive his assignment.

In the conference room where they would be briefed on the mission sat only two people. The first was an orc who everyone called "Hugo." He didn't have a last name, so on his paperwork, it just said: "The Orc." He was a strange one, and not just because few people in the group had seen anyone like an orc before. He was found hiding in the catacombs beneath the city and not even he knew how long he had been down there. Naturally, upon realising that this group would keep him safe from both Iscariot and the general population, he jumped at the opportunity to join the organisation and enthusiastically went through a six-week training course alongside Damien, where they both learned how to be good soldiers. It was a bit of a learning curve, but they managed, somehow.

Hugo was decked out in his own gear and offered the warlock a smile before gesturing for him to sit down. At the head of the table, however, was a significantly less friendly face. Johnathan Beattie was there. He was a terrifying prescence, as always. While there was never anything wrong about him, as far as Damien or anyone else for that matter could see, there certainly was something that wasn't right about him, either. Then again, it was never wise to put one's full trust in a demon. Damien knew that much. He wasn't stupid. The fact that Johnathan did not look particularly enthusiastic was chilling, as Damien knew that something was not going as planned.

"There's two of you." Johnathan finally said, looking at his watch. "On time. The last one is late. Apparently, he wants everyone to be out until dawn."

The demon could see the tension held within his team's bodies, however, prompting him to flash them a smile. "Don't worry. I'm not angry with you. You did nothing wrong, of course. I'm sure he'll be here any minute."

Neither Damien nor Hugo could imagine what would happen should Johnathan have to get up and find the fourth man. Fortunately, they didn't have to find out, as the door opened. "Good evening." the man greeted.

Doctor Pierre Rigaud swaggered into the room with a smile on his face as if his tardiness was simply lost on him. He was a friendly-looking man in his forties with glasses, a stuffy haircut and a goatee that made him look "hip." Like the others, he wore his own gear with the Honeycutt bee on the breast pocket of his shirt and on the side of his sleeve. That alone was the only overtly threatening thing about him, visually, apart from his subtle, supernatural characteristics.

From the courses that everyone working there had been forced to attend on supernaturals, one could immediately pin him as a vampire- a dangerous one at that, from the crimson hue of his eyes, indicating that he had bitten and completely drained a human of their blood via a bite. Some vampires drained blood using tools, but a bite was vicious and primal. It was the sort of violence that all vampires, no matter how kind and sweet they were, were capable of if driven to the point of near starvation, but given the man's stature, he didn't seem to have that problem. Furthermore, Damien heard whispers on his former campus when the doctor was working there as a professor. When he suddenly stopped, many people were surprised, but many were also not. Damien was surprised to find him here, of all places and as a vampire, no less. Once the novelty had worn off, however, Damien found those rumours to be more and more plausible despite not having any solid proof. Naturally, the doctor taught philosophy and ethics, of course.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Doctor Rigaud stated as he sat down. "I had trouble getting up and then I couldn't find the room!"

"Well, human error is always a factor when it comes to working with others, Doctor." Johnathan replied, getting up to close the door. "I do hope that this won't become a habit, however. Given your former profession, I believe you are well-acquainted with the annoyance that tardiness can cause, and the impression that it can leave when the habit is carried over, professionally. It is important work that we're doing and I only expect behaviour that inspires confidence from each and every member of staff."

"My apologies, Mister Stark." the Doctor answered.

"Like I said: Don't let it become a habit." With the door now closed, the demon walked back toward his seat. "Now that we're all here, let's get started. This is typical mission that I feel does not warrant much explanation, as we have all done this before. Tonight, we will be going on yet another catacomb expedition."

No one was happy about it, but no one dared vocalise it. First of all, there was no point in arguing. They would have to go on the mission either way. Secondly, they did not want to argue with the demon, knowing that they didn't even have strength in numbers against him. A warlock, an orc, and a vampire were simply no match for him if he decided he did not like their response. Still, their eyes gave their feelings away.

"I know it isn't particularly exciting," Johnathan continued, "But it is necessary. That is where many supernaturals fled to, and if we're going to find more supernatural recruits like Hugo, that is a good place to start. Furthermore, if there is a vampire hiding any ghouls down there, we need to get rid of them before they can surface again."

"What about the girls?" Doctor Rigaud questioned. "Couldn't they do it?"

"Two of them don't speak French and Miss Perron has the night off." Johnathan explained.

"Second job?"

"Her daughter has been taking dance classes, and she wants to be there for her."

"Sure, that's what she says..."

"Regardless, you are the ones who will be working and I expect you to do a halfway decent job." The demon turned around, facing the map pinned to the wall and picked up a marker. "Here is the entrance that we used last time and our previous route in green. This, however, is the route that we are going to explore this time." he said, drawing a series of lines on the map in red ink. "This should take us through the area Hugo said that there are usually supernaturals, so we should be on our guard. We will ask them to join us, but be cautious if they reject us. If they get violent, though, we shoot to kill."

Turning around again, the demon placed the lid on his marker and pointed to each of his associates with it, one-by-one. "Hugo, we'll need you to help us negotiate with the locals and help us stay en route. Rigaud, we need your night vision to let us know if any hostiles are trying to sneak up on us. Damien, you'll use your magic to stabilise any injuries the other two may obtain and to keep hostiles at bay. Your shields are useful, here. But, since you're ORSAP's only magical expert at the moment, Rigaud and Hugo need to have your back. It'll be expensive to revive you if you die."

"Wait, what? You can do that?" Damien questioned.

"That's what I said. I can't make bodies from scratch, though, so that's where the expense comes in." The flatness with which the demon said that didn't cushion the shock that Damien felt upon learning this. He had assumed that some had tried to use magic in such a way, as that is one of the things that all living things feared. Kings had given obscene rewards to those who claimed that they could give them a cure for death, but no such thing had ever been confirmed to exist, as far as Damien knew, but then again, his knowledge of supernatural affairs was limited.

The Iscariot organisation had forced supernaturals into hiding. Any trace of magic or inhumanity could mean certain death and the decimation of entire families. It had gotten worse, with time. As the age of monsters came to an end and the modern world creeped in, the world of magic had been dying for quite some time. Magic was forbidden in his home. Not one single whisper of it could be spoken of it for the longest time and even now, Damien could not get his parents to even consider dipping a toe into it. They didn't understand themselves just how tragic that it was for them to not know magic and for them to refuse to allow Damien to teach them, but they did not have the time to dwell on such things. They were too worried about survival and were deeply burdened by the knowledge of what they were. At least they knew. Many of Damien's relatives did not. All they knew was that there was supposedly a witch or two "some ways back." He had cousins who he could sense the magical energy of, that were completely unaware that they were not fully human. Maybe they would never find out. Maybe they would believe that they were ordinary forever.

But Damien knew. He had traveled to other lands, learning what his family could not teach him. He knew basic magic used for everyday things and he knew magic that was forbidden in the United Kingdom, but either way, he was looking forward to meeting the expert of HELLSING to see what more he could learn about himself. Still, he had never, ever, heard of proof that the magic that Johnathan had spoke of existed.

As everyone was briefed on what everyone's tasks were, Damien couldn't help but fixate on it, even as all of them got up to leave. Could it be a spell? What kind? What would that entail? How does one build a body? How does one create life without one? He didn't know, even as they were all piled into an armoured truck and heading down the street.

All of them had a gun, even if they weren't particularly keen on using them. Johnathan would have preferred it if they did, but using fragile humans in an excursion such as this was unwise. It was wasteful, even. The close quarters would make them easy prey for more carnivorous supernaturals that stalk the catacombs- in particular, those who were sanguinous.

Still, down once more, the group went. Downward, into the impenetrable blackness. Downward, into the den of monsters. Downward, they were led- led by a bonafide devil. Death coated every wall as bones were built into the architecture of the labyrinthine tunnels, watching them as they progressed through empty sockets.

The catacombs of Paris stretched for over two-hundred miles, with many parts undisturbed, while others were horrendously vandalised by tasteless n'er-do-wells who fancied themselves "artists." Trash littered the floor in these places, although surprisingly, they were much cleaner than one would think. There wasn't a bottle in sight and although there were cigarette packages strewn about, there were no butts, save for a few burned completely down to the filter. As the group delved deeper, however, these areas disappeared.

All that was left were walls and walls of bones staring at the group, causing Damien to feel a bit uneasy. The others, however, remained unbothered, at least on the surface. Doctor Rigaud was hard to place, but Johnathan was completely at ease. There wasn't any trace of tension in his body, as far as anyone could see in the dim light. Hugo seemed uneasy, but his focus was always down the halls that they passed and the halls ahead of them- never on their morbid surroundings. He was used to the bones and darkness. It was simply part of living there.

Only the sounds of their footsteps on the stone and dirt floor could be heard for blocks and blocks as they traversed the tunnels, but everyone's ears were open for any changes. Adrenaline spiked through the systems of the ORSAP members as Johnathan's pace slowed, alerting them that they needed to be ready for some sort of contact. "Someone's up ahead." the demon informed. That's all that he needed to say for them to be fully prepared for combat. "They're approaching slowly."

Still, they advanced while trying to stifle any noise. They stepped carefully and quietly, with tense muscles and the hair on the back of their necks standing on end. More information came in as more time passed.

"Not human." Johnathan said. "Human-sized, but not human. Not a vampire, either. Something else. I don't know the word for it."

"What's the English?" Damien whispered.

_"'__Ghoul.'" _While the warlock could speak English, he still couldn't place that word, so his hopes of having some foresight were dashed. "Vampires make them."

A light chuckle came from Doctor Rigaud. It didn't inspire any sort of confidence at all. Everyone kept their eyes peeled and persisted on, despite not knowing what they were up against.

"It's almost here." the demon informed, the sound of blood pumping in the group's ears now drowning out the sound of their footsteps. As they approached, however, they could hear the sound of feet shuffling around the next corner. "In five… four… three… two…"

All guns pointed in that direction. Lo, and behold, the vague outline of a human being was slightly visible in the darkness, sporting a pair of bright, glowing, red, eyes staring back at the group, with a horrible groaning sound gurgling from its throat. Johnathan and the doctor could see the creature clear as day, but the other two had to wait until it got closer to see it's disgusting visage.

It looked like a young man; pale, slack-jawed, and showing signs of early decay. His teeth were yellowed and a horrible stench followed him as he clumsily staggered toward the quartet with an arm outstretched. His clothes were trendy, with an Apple Watch still on his wrist, but his backpack was ripped open and empty- undoubtedly, it was ransacked by other catacomb-dwellers who thought he may have something useful. He probably did, as he appeared to be some poor youth who decided that exploring the tunnels would be a good time. It was odd that he was alone, but where he came from, there were probably friends of his- lord knows what happened to them. Perhaps they had their blood drained by the vampire that bit this poor ghoul, perhaps they were eaten by some other supernatural, or perhaps they were eaten by their friend, here. If Johnathan and his team were lucky, they would find out.

"Don't shoot him." Johnathan said over the strained, monotone droning that came from in front of him. "The guns might spook other supernaturals nearby."

"Then what do we do?!" demanded Damien. "It's coming right at us!"

Johnathan opened his mouth to answer, only for a large mass to run past him, calling out a battle cry. Hugo's gun was strapped to his back as he rushed at the ghoul with his fist raised above his head, clenching a dagger. Typically, close-range weapons provided by anti-freak organisations were a last resort, but the orc didn't seem to mind or care as he sheathed the weapon directly inside of the ghoul's chest. Yanking it out, he stabbed the creature again, allowing it to fall off of his blade and onto the ground, motionless, as the glow from its eyes faded and its horrible voice became silent.

Placing his weapon back in the sheath on his hip, Hugo sniffed and turned around. "I got him." he said with a smile, eagerly awaiting praise from his team.

"Good job, Hugo. But next time, don't yell." Johnathan replied as he stepped forward, eventually walking past the orc. "We have to be quiet."

Crouching down next to the body, Hugo didn't rejoin his group right away. "Can I have his stuff?"

"Go ahead. He's not using any of it. Just don't take long. We need the group to stay together."

Eagerly, Hugo searched his kill, as customary in the catacombs, finding nothing but the earrings in the victim's ears and the watch around his wrist. "I wish I could wear these… They're so pretty..."

"Pierce your ears and you can. You should wash them first." suggested Doctor Rigaud.

"Remind me how a professor of ethics condone stealing from corpses and wearing their jewelry?" spoke the warlock beside him in perfect monotone.

"There are many ways of approaching an ethics issue. If the object no longer holds any value to the person, then it can be argued that taking it can be ethical, as it does not harm the person in any way. Now, if they were family heirlooms or the victim's family wanted his belongings to be returned for sentimental reasons, then that could pose a greater conundrum. But, since we will never know, it is not worth worrying about, I suppose."

"I am so glad I didn't major in that shit..." Damien muttered, prompting Rigaud to laugh.

"Oh, that's right… You're a chemistry major. And how, pray tell, did that turn out?"

"How did your teaching job turn out? Oh, that's right..."

The doctor frowned as Damien rubbed his thumb on the underside of his chin, but before either of them could dwell on it for very long, their leader spoke up. "Let's keep moving."

Despite the jokes, the presence of a dead body was unnerving to Damien. It wasn't even that Hugo "killed" it. It was already dead. Yet Damien walked around it cautiously as they advanced, somewhat frightened that it may spring back to life and bite his ankles if he didn't pay attention. The others, however, had no such concerns. The young man supposed that he shouldn't either, given what this organisation was and how they did things. He still had a lot on his mind, however, so it was ultimately still difficult to focus. Death was a confusing thing for him lately. Dead things could be crudely animated, but also the dead could be completely revived, if Johnathan was to be believed. Taking that information in and participating in killings over and over again made the warlock feel numb to the concept. It was like it simply didn't matter. Dead today can be alive tomorrow, but he wanted to know how.

"You said you could revive us if one of us dies, right?" he questioned, directing his inquiry at the demon. "How? Is it magic?"

"Is this really a question for right now?" Johnathan asked, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. His tone immediately alerted Damien that he had made a mistake in asking, prompting the warlock to shrink a bit.

"No… It's not… Sorry..."

There was a pause, filled with only the sound of their footsteps before either of them spoke again. "I'd take your soul and put it somewhere safe before Death takes it." Johnathan explained. "Then, I'd take your body and clone it. Cloning isn't cheap, so don't die."

"I see..." That was all the warlock felt safe saying, but luckily for him, the leader of his team guessed what he really wanted to know."

"There's a way to do it using alchemy and magic." the demon continued. "I have no idea how to do it, though. There's a book that can tell you how, but it's supposedly hard to read and it's locked away in a place nobody can get to anymore. It's called 'The Book of Akeldama.' It's supposedly the ultimate magic book. I know you'd love to get your hands on it, wouldn't you?"

"Have you seen it?"

"No. Never. I'd be killed on the spot if I tried. I have no interest in it, anyway. It doesn't suit my needs. Even if I got close to it, security's changed. Years ago, I could've used some of hi—_my blood_, and recited a spell and get past. I have no idea how it's changed, but I'm sure it has. The one who owns it isn't an idiot."

"Do demons not need that kind of magic?" asked Doctor Rigaud, finally speaking up. "Surely if you had that, you could do all kinds of things, right?"

"I could, but someone else has already tried it, and I'm not interested in being some weak little copycat. No…" The demon paused for a moment, clasping his hands in front of himself with his fingers entwined. He squeezed tightly before softening his grip and examining his blackened nails.

"What do demons even want? Don't you want to drag people to hell or eat their souls?" Pierre piped up again when Johnathan trailed off. "It's sort of weird to imagine that one would simply be invested in helping supernaturals and humans."

To that, the demon looked over his shoulders at the group. He smiled at them sweetly. It was a sick, twisted, sort of sweetness that looked pleasant, but didn't envoke any feeling of warmth in the slightest. Instead, the sight of Johnathan's face caused dread to pool in the pit of his team's stomachs as they once again tried to decipher what he was thinking.

"You'd be surprised." he said. "Some demons are just born 'different.' I'm not the first demon to do this job and I definitely won't be the last. While most demons are all about getting their next fix of human souls to fill the miserable void they have inside of themselves, some demons know that there are much more exciting things out there. There is just so much better to live for, you know?"

"Like art, music, and women?" Rigaud suggested. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to taste food again… Luckily, I can still enjoy everything else, especially now with that shade gel stuff Damein makes."

"I suppose those are nice things." The group didn't know if he was going to add anything to that, so they waited, only for the demon to keep walking in silence.

"I don't understand some of those, but the food in the canteen is good." added Hugo, breaking the silence. "There isn't any good food down here."

"Unless you're a vampire, perhaps." Doctor Rigaud corrected, prompting the orc to nod in agreement.

"Quiet. There's someone else coming." Johnathan chimed in, but Hugo didn't stop talking.

"Well, we are close to a spot that people live in. We'll probably run into actual people." informed the orc. "I can go ahead and check it out if-"

"No. We stay with the group." The demon stepped in front of Hugo, staring him down before he could make much progress down the hall, forcing him back into position. Johnathan wasn't happy about Hugo's earlier actions, despite them being successful, as Johnathan was never happy when things went against his expectations—especially when it came to people.

Sheepishly, the group persisted, creeping closer to the target that Johnathan was sensing. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was small. It wasn't a torchlight. Perhaps it was a lighter. It flickered as Johnathan held up his hand and started counting down. Then, a voice called out.

"Who's there?" it asked. It was a deep voice and sounded almost sickly. "I see your light. Who are you?"

"Artus!" Hugo called out with a smile. He turned to his associates. "I know him! Artus! It's me! Hugo!"

"Hugo?" Artus questioned as he got closer. "It's been over a month! We thought you were dead, you bastard!"

"I've found a better place to be than here. I've brought friends with me!"

"More outsiders? With your ugly mug? I find that hard to believe. I don't have anything to share if them, if that's what you want to know. If they're at all human-looking, they should stay toward the front! We don't need them!"

Heavy footsteps approached until the militia members saw a face illuminated by the lighter in Artus' massive hand. It was a large face, belonging to an ogre, with skin tags here and there and lots of scarring on one side. His hands were worn and his frame was slender for an ogre—far too slender to be at all healthy. The dance of his lighter's flame reflected in his big, blue, eyes, before going out as a startled expression appeared on his face.

"Good God!" Artus shouted upon seeing the group and their guns. Hugo shined his flashlight on him so that he couldn't use the cover of darkness to get away.

"Don't be scared, Artus! We're not Iscariot! We're not here to hurt you!" the orc pleaded. "We're with ORSAP! It's… The… Uh…

_ "Organisme des Recherches Supernaturalles et des Activies Paranormales.'"_ Damien stated.

"Right! That."

"Who cares about that?!" the ogre gawked. "I don't care who the hell they are! They've come down here with guns and nobody comes down here with guns for a good reason!"

"We're fighting the bad guys, Artus. The bad eggs that make things hard for the rest of us! Things are changing! In England, they have whole towns where supernaturals are able to live with no one botherin' 'em! And they're gonna make places like that here, too. Right now, though, they give me a nice place to sleep, good food, and good clothes for helping them! I even get money!" Stepping closer to his friend, he held open his arms. "We're looking for people to join up with us. We can get everybody out of here!"

"At what cost, eh?" Artus asked. "Eh?! What will they have us do in exchange? Do you remember Rodolphe? Do you remember what happened when he tried to help Iscariot in exchange for safety? He died! He sold out his family and friends and for what? Nothing!"

"It's not like that..."

"I don't care!" Artus declared, putting his marred face close to Hugo's. "If you really are the 'good guys,' then you will leave us all alone!"

"But if we do, you'll all have to leave again! Some of the vampires have been attacking humans and hiding down here! If we let them continue, then the humans will get suspicious and they'll come down here and find everyone!"

"That is what vampires do! That is what humans do! The vampires take care of any humans that come down here! They do a really good job of it, too! They keep the place clean! There being less humans on the surface doesn't break my heart any! Now go! I've had enough of you… Don't come back..."

"Artus-"

"Mister Artus, you have my utmost reassurance that we mean no harm." Johnathan chimed in. "We respect that we cannot sway you and that there are profound differences in the way that we live and operate. However, there are indeed hostile vampires in these catacombs that must be dealt with. Our offer to join us still stands, but whether you take it or not, those vampires have to go."

The ogre stared at him, narrowing his eyes. His gaze was relentlessly skeptical and held for a few excruciating moments before it turned to Hugo again. "I have no idea what that guy is saying." he said. "He talks funny! What kind of French is that? I don't trust it. I don't trust any of you. Get out of here! Leave and leave well enough alone! We don't want your help and you can't help us any!"

Johnathan scowled as Artus turned to leave, lighting his lighter and heading down the corridor from whence he came. The others noticed his body stiffening and his jaw and fists clenching. The air around him seemed to change as a dark expression came over the demon. Then, he placed a hand over Hugo's forcing him to point the flashlight downward.

"Turn out your lights." he instructed. His tone was absolute. Thus, the group did as they were told, shrouding themselves in complete darkness. Only Johnathan and Doctor Rigaud could see through the blackness. The rest could only see the dim flicker of Artus' lighter growing smaller and smaller down the hallway.

Everything went silent. The group anxiously awaited Johnathan's next order, but it never came. Why was he just standing there? Was there danger? Was there something else? Hugo had already made enough mistakes that night, so he stood motionless in the dark, not wanting to anger Johnathan any further. After a while, however, he grew impatient as the seconds passed on like hours and the group collectively started to forget how to breathe. Cautiously, he reached out toward the demon, wondering why he was so still, but he could not touch him. The orc only grabbed air.

"Stop that." Doctor Rigaud whispered. "Don't do anything."

With that, Hugo was still once more. His body was tense and his ears were tuned in to his surroundings. He stared down the hallway at the light as it grew smaller, and smaller, still. Then, the orc and his Warlock compatriot both nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound of Artus' shocked gasp. Their hearts fell into their stomachs at the sound of the loud _crack_ that immediately followed.

"You can probably turn your light back on." Pierre informed, but Hugo did not want to. He didn't want to see what it was that Johnathan had done. Damien, however, the ever-curious young man he was, did it anyway. He switched on his flashlight and shined it down the hall.

There, Johnathan stood up from crouching over the ogre's body. The demon loosened his shoulders and sniffed before looking back at his team. His eyes were aglow with a bright red hue and he appeared to be rather pleased with himself. Yet, there was a look about him that appeared to be silently warning them: "I could do this to you too, if I wanted to."

Damien wanted to turn off the light, but he couldn't look away. Neither he nor Hugo could. They just stared back at the demon, unblinking, like deer caught in headlights. Then, the brute spoke.

"Let's go." he said. "There's more up ahead."

* * *

**A/N: I just looked at the calendar and realised just how late this update is... I'm on break, so time isn't moving the same way, it seems... What the fuck happened?**

**Anyway, I wanted to introduce new characters and parts of ORSAP. Obviously, things aren't that great with Johnathan in charge... **

**I have to relearn how to write for him, as he's undergone QUITE a few changes from DLTP... He's a Ciel look-alike and his methods have sort of changed. He also has this bizarre kind of philosophy on how he wants to do things and while I understand it, it's going to be a (fun) challenge to introduce to all of you! **

**Like always, let me know what you think, because there's some fun little details that I want to hear your thoughts on!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	48. Shiny and New

A long sigh escaped the Watchdog as he rested in bed. The soft glow from the bedside lamps lit up the room, casting shadows on the walls, furniture, and on Ciel, himself, but the warm glow was cut by the sharp light of Jim's laptop screen as the silence was broken by the occasional tapping of keys. Still, ordinarily, this wouldn't be a bother to the Watchdog. He was content, laying on his stomach with his arms underneath his pillow and head. After a while, he turned over on his side so that he could see his spouse with his good eye and watched him as he worked.

Jim's brow was serious and his gaze was focused as he continued to toil away at his documents. Occasionally, he would stop to ponder what he would write next, placing his thumb to his lower lip. When his beau moved, however, he glanced over briefly to see if he was asleep or not, only to turn his head when he realised that the bluenette was wide awake.

"Sorry, am I keeping you up?"

The bluenette shook his head lightly, resting his cheek in his palm as he propped himself up. "No. You're alright. I do wonder how you can work tonight when we're going home tomorrow, though. Eager to get a head start?"

"I can't, really. I'm trying, but it's really hard to come up with something without knowing what kind of situation they have." Jim replied. "The basic stuff is still basic stuff, but without knowing if they have any kind of site to build a supernatural city in or if they're just going to keep tabs on people living amoung humans makes things kinda hard. I dunno if I can do it and I really hope they're not expecting anything right now."

"You can definitely do it. It always takes time, but you can do it. You've done it twice already." the bluenette insisted, holding his free arm out to his husband. "Come, now… Lay down with me. You have a long drive home ahead of you."

"I don't exactly need to sleep, you know..."

"Yes, but you should relax a bit."

That caused the blonde to laugh. "Since when are you a relaxation guru? You're as into working and getting work done as I am! Maybe even more! Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

"Vacation time is for vacation. You're the one who insisted on it."

"True, but I guess I didn't think you'd get so needy when you're relaxed." The menace paused. "Actually, you've gotten a lot needier over time in general… Always crawling all over me and calling me 'Jimmy' like I don't remember when you were too nervous to hold my hand..."

Saying that was practically an invitation to Ciel, prompting him to take the menace by the hand. "Well, I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks." he said, offering the menace a wink. How dare he be so charming?! Forcing the blonde to blush like that! It simply wasn't fair! Furthermore, Jim was thoroughly interested in the gesture as he stared at the bluenette with eyes the size of dinnerplates.

"Is something the matter?" Ciel questioned, dropping his expression slightly.

"No… It's just… I don't think I've ever seen you wink successfully before..."

"That's because I always wear an eyepatch..."

"It's cute."

"Oh?"

"Really cute." Jim emphasised. "I've kind of liked seeing you without it for this long."

"Are you suggesting I not wear it, then?"

"Nah. I kind of like getting to be the only one who gets to see it this much. It makes me feel special."

"You are special. Only you get to see me like this."

Ciel had been so at ease lately that the thought of returning to civilisation somewhat irked him. While he would still have the same softness, the same warmth, and tenderness that he had with Jim while at the cabin, he would have to return to business and warmongering soon. He knew that he would inevitably wish to return at some point, given who he was. He was Lord Ciel Phantomhive of the Phantomhive Family. It was in his blood. The Earl needed the excitement in order to be fulfilled, but right then, he had a taste for sweetness and simply wanted to gorge himself on it.

The blankets and pillows were soft and inviting. The water of the lake outside was cool and refreshing under the warm sun. The air was fresh and the scenery was so serene, with only the sound of birds in the nearby Forrest and the sound of the water shifting to break the silence. Then, there was Jim. Ciel couldn't seem to get enough of him over the past few days. He didn't know if he was uneasy due to the tranquility of his surroundings, but he felt inexplicably drawn to the menace, craving him always.

He wanted to keep the blonde's scent in his lungs and found his taste absolutely intoxicating. Ciel was always astounded at how perfect Jim's shape was and how his skin felt against his fingertips. He loved the way that their bodies fit together whenever they embraced and whenever his beau felt inclined to touch him in return, he wanted nothing more than to melt into the menace. Even whenever Jim caressed the Watchdog's face ever-so-slightly, Ciel wanted to become docile. The tension fled from his mind and body and his propensity to do evil vanished. As he cuddled up to his beau while Jim continued to work for a little while longer, wrapping his arm around the blonde's waist, Jim couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the content face the Watchdog made.

"What a dork..." the blonde thought to himself as his husband softly snored. "Irredeemable dweeb. What a loser. I can't not think he's cute."

Ciel always slept soundly when he was next to Jim, but the two of them still got up bright and early the next morning. They got dressed, brushed their teeth, packed everything back into the car and made sure that the cabin was more or less in the exact condition that they had found it in. They even went so far as to take out the trash. Thus, their trip started to come to a close, but they still had some time to spend together left on their way back. Both of them dreaded their return. It meant that they had to start working, just when they had become accustomed to doing absolutely nothing.

"You going to head back to work as soon as we get back?" Jim questioned, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

"No..." his beau shook. "To be perfectly honest, I fully intend to sit completely alone in a room and read the news."

"That's a great plan! I was hoping to lay in bed and read some trashy advice columns for a few hours!" The menace smiled brightly as he said this. He seemed to completely perk up at the idea.

"I'll take the office, then. You can have our room."

"I'll bring my laptop with me so I can work without bothering you."

"Thank you, Jimmy-darling."

While they very much enjoyed each other's company and really didn't want to stop being lovey-dovey, as they got closer to home, the fact that they hadn't been outside of each other's company for several days began to sink in. Refreshed as they were, they both loved each other enough to recognise that perhaps some space was necessary.

They had their joyous reunion with the rest of the family before retiring to different spaces. After a few hours, Ciel grew tired of reading the news and decided to take a nap on one of the office sofas, while the menace remembered that he had work to do. They met again at dinner and ate with the rest of the family, listening to various updates and goings on around the house and outside of it, before returning again to different rooms of the house until it was time for bed.

"Hello, I'm going to shower." the bluenette informed as he ducked into the bedroom breifly.

"'Kay." Not much else needed to be said. Jim was busy working, still, and continued until his beau returned, dressed in his night clothes while drying his hair. His return caused the blonde to look up, but the sight of him made his beau chuckle.

"Wow, I almost forgot what you looked like in pyjamas." Jim snickered, prompting the bluenette to blush.

"Oh, lay off it… I wore some last night, you oaf."

"'You oaf.'" mocked the menace. Closing his computer and setting it down on the floor, Jim stretched with a loud grunt before moving toward the bathroom, himself. "Any hot water left? I wanna take a bath."

"Should be." Ciel presented his cheek to the menace as the blonde moved to kiss it as he walked past. "Oh, and I'll head in before you tomorrow and pick up my sword so you won't have to wait on me."

"It's fine. I can get it for you on my way out."

"I'd like to have a look at it before it's taken home. You have a weapon there, too, so don't forget it."

"Ooh~! The anniversary gift I told you not to get?" the baronet teased, gathering his clothes before heading into the bathroom.

"So says the man who arranged an entire trip for us."

The very next day, they did as the bluenette suggested and ventured off toward HELLSING headquarters in different vehicles. They walked to the front door together, but they parted immediately upon entering the building. Jim had to talk to the Supernatural Relations Department about recent events and go over a few remaining documents before possibly meeting with the representatives from France. Ciel, on the other hand, simply went straight to the Research Department.

He found himself having surprisingly missed these halls and found himself eager to hold a weapon in his hand again. People passing by occasionally greeted him, wishing him a good morning as they came and went. Opening the doors to the laboratory, he found himself greeted further by the staff of the research department as well as a few representatives from the weapons department, all somewhat ominously standing on the other side of a large table. Miranda Ackerman looked thrilled as always whenever he arrived to pick up a new weapon, while Wink also looked surprisingly proud, herself. After all, she was the one who treated it with magic and furthermore, it was the first time she had ever made a weapon for the Phantomhive on a professional basis. She was eager to see how he liked it. Finally, it appeared that one of his former proteges, Private Ryan Braumfeld, had somehow sneaked himself onto the project, as a full-fledged employee of the Weapons Department. He, too, was both ecstatic and terrified about the situation.

"Welcome back, Lord Phantomhive!" greeted Miranda. "Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Indeed, I did, thank you." the demon politely returned in kind. "I hope you'll forgive my husband's momentary absence. He's just gotten back and he's already jumping headfirst into this ORSAP business. He'll be along in a few hours to retrieve his own instrument."

"Oh, that's unfortunate. I bet you wanted to see him look at the weapon you commissioned for him!"

"It's alright. He'll let me know what he thinks about it when he gets home." Ciel said, holding up a hand. "Now, I understand you have a little something for me as well?"

"Yes!" the woman replied before turning to Mister Braumfeld. "Ryan, can you get the cases?"

"They're right here." the private bent down, crouching behind the table that separated the two parties and dissappearing momentarily. When he stood up, he placed a metal, rectangular case on top of the table before placing a smaller, square one beside it. Ciel knew what one was, but not the other. Thus, he opened the unfamiliar square case first.

"What's this?" the demon questioned as he somewhat skeptically unlatched and opened it. After removing the lid, inside of the case sat a massive pistol- far bigger than what the Phantomhive normally used, and perhaps even slightly bigger than the guns his spouse used.

"This was designed mostly by the Weapons Department, with the research done by Miranda." Private Braumfeld explained. "It 's a Kaspar-model gun similar to Jim's, with a sword-like guard around the handle and the ambidextrous safety control removed. We call it the 'Hellhound' version." He paused, gauging Ciel's level of approval as the demon picked up the weapon and held it in his hand.

"Impressive… Does the guard hold up against bladed weapons?"

"Most. It'll start to bend under a certain amount of pressure. It fires 50 AE Magnum Antifreak bullets. It's meant to be held one-handed." the younger man explained. "Right now, the six-inch barrel is attached. We debated on whether or not you would find the eleven-inch cumbersome to use or not, but we've provided it in the case as an optional attachment, just in case."

"Very nice… I imagine the recoil is similar to Jim's?"

"It should be the same."

"It may take some getting used to, then. It's nice, though. I'll take it out to the testing range before I leave and report on how it handles." Loading the magazine into the weapon, he wove both it and the attachment into his demonic garb, causing it to disappear into thin air. Next, he moved on to what he really came here for and placed his hands on the latches of the rectangular container.

"This one was a collaborative effort." Miranda stated. "It doesn't have a name yet. We figured that you would give it one."

The case opened, revealing a sword and scabbard lovingly placed inside. Each stitch in the leather of of the sheath was sewn by hand and every detail on both it and the weapon was designed with the utmost attention to detail, containing motifs of the Phantomhive family crest, with the stray HELLSING reference here and there. The blade was black as pitch without a blemish on it to speak of. There were no runes like on the previous sword, but it was still a powerful weapon, treated by one of the most talented witches in Gehenna. Ciel could sense the sacred nature of the weapon radiating off of it, making him somewhat cautious in picking it up. He was almost afraid that it would burn him if he touched it with his diabolical hands as it purged the evil from him, too, but no, that wasn't what happened at all. Delicately, the Watchdog picked up the weapon and marveled at it, holding it firmly in his fist as he inspected it.

"I perfected the technique I used on the yew sword and scabbard that killed Abhartach to make it." Wink chimed in. "The metal is a mixture, consisting of fragments from your previous sword and scraps of the also shattered Jarnglofar Mk I. It was in storage and it seemed fitting. We melted them down and treated the blade, while the handle is made of yew from a large branch of the Abhartach Tree. I carved a few runes into it and wrapped it in leather before attaching the metal pieces. The guard is coated in silver and has a pyramid-shaped spike on the end of it. It's subtle, but you can probably off somebody by bashing them in the head with it."

"That's nice, but if the leather comes off, won't I be unable to hold it because of the runes?"

"You were able to pick up the last yew sword just fine, so it should be alright." the witch stated.

"It's far too nice for a demon..." Ciel lamented. "It's beautiful. Good weight, too."

"You need to try it out too before you leave." Wink stated. "We'll clean it off for you before you go. Now..." she paused, bending down before picking up yet another case. This one was much smaller than either of the ones presented to Ciel previously. "Do you want to have a look at what we made for Jim?"

"Oh, absolutely." the demon replied. "Just let me put this away first."

He picked up the scabbard and slid the blade inside, finding satisfaction in how perfectly the weapon fit. The craftsmanship was absolutely impeccable—Ciel simply couldn't praise them enough about it. Everything was perfect and even the way that it fit in the Phantomhive's hand gave him a rush. The black fire started from his hands and swallowed it up, hiding the gorgeous blade from public view completely.

His beau was not so lucky in the sort of thing he had to view at that particular moment, however. Instead of playing with toys, he was running around the Supernatural Relations Department offices, giving instruction, taking in intel, and working out what else was left for him to hand over to the French. Once he had his underlings able to do the running for him, he hopped on the phones and started calling businesses in Gehenna to see if they were alright with having him bring the minsters running ORSAP there on a tour of the town.

Slowly, he was feeling better about it, since they were mostly asking for documentation and photographs of what supernatural cities could look like, but he also needed to prepare some material so that he could further emphasise why they should respect supernaturals and how they can do that. Luckily, he had time, as they were still making their own rounds through the organisation and making their own phonecalls home to get their people sorted.

Hours passed by the time he reached a satisfactory stopping point, leaving him feeling ragged and run down. Ciel had long since gone back home, leaving Jim to pack up his things and make the drive back on his own. Yet, before he could go, he still had one last errand to do. By this point, he sort of wished that Ciel had gone ahead and picked his weapon up for him. It made sense, since the Watchdog claimed he commissioned it as an anniversary gift. It was a shame that he couldn't look at… whatever it was—with the bluenette present. While he acted all calm, cool, and collected, Ciel very much enjoyed seeing his beloved's reactions, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. Neither of them knew how long it would take for Jim to reach a stopping point in his work, and he knew that he ought to give the weapon a test-run before he went.

Thus, he made the trek to the research department, moving down the hallway rather slowly. He wanted to go home, but didn't feel enthusiastic enough to walk briskly. Yet, as luck or misfortune would have it, had he walked a bit faster, he might have been able to avoid the encounter that he was about to experience. As he trudged on, he heard footsteps behind him quicken, prompting him to glance over his shoulder to see what it was. Then, he heard it.

"Mister Phantomhive! Hello!" called out a woman with a noticable accent. Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe came trotting up with him, having recognised him from afar. Never before had Jim ever felt the need to correct someone when it came to his title, but here, the compulsion hit him like a ton of bricks despite how pompous he felt it was.

"It's 'Sir Phantomhive,' actually." the demon replied, stopping his movement anyway, as it was the polite thing to do. "Hello to you too, though."

"Oh! Of course! My apologies. You are a baronet." she stated, offering him a curtsy. "I knew you were not a 'lord,' but could not remember the appropriate title."

"It's alright. What brings you here?"

"I have a medical appointment with a Miss Ackerman, and then I have an appointment with the Supernatural Relations Department. I'm going to be interviewed about the state of supernatural affairs in Paris. It's very frightening."

"I bet it is! You were chased out by Iscariot! How are things, though? Are you doing better?"

"Mostly I'm afraid of seeing the doctor, right now. I can't remember the last time I had an actual checkup… I may have been human at the time!" the woman replied with a somewhat worried look on her face, but she was still all smiles. "I'm doing better in general after taking yours and Ciel's advice. I've been going and doing things around Gehenna and trying to make friends. I've met some very nice people in the process! I've even mostly decorated my apartment, now, but it's still not quite done. Luckily there are so many wonderful artists in Gehenna. So many of them actually paint portraits of you!"

"Yeah… They do that for some reason, but I'm glad to hear that you're having a better time, now." Jim was still courteous and he was genuinely glad that Renee was doing better than she was when they first met, but at the same time, he couldn't help but think that she was trying to ally herself with him because he was "important." It was definitely judgmental of him and he realised that, but he also knew that it was common with posh people.

"Oh! But how was your trip? I tried to come visit you at home, but your brother told me you were celebrating your anniversary with Ciel! Congratulations!"

"It was good! We had fun. We rented a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. Y'know, just getting away from everything for a bit. It's nice, sometimes."

"Indeed. I remember often going on trips with family and friends as well when I was younger!"

Despite seemingly having things to talk about, the conversation was visibly dying. Neither of them particularly knew how to interact with each other. Jim wasn't quite responding in the way that Renee was perhaps expecting him to, and Jim really didn't know where to begin with Renee.

"So…" the menace began, darting his eyes around in hopes of spotting something—anything to talk about, only for his gaze to land on a particular warlock as he approached. The demon's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to figure out if he was indeed seeing what he was seeing or not. "What in blazes happened to Dafydd's head?"

"Who?" questioned the woman, turning her head in order to take a look at whoever it was that Jim was talking about. She saw nothing wrong with the man approaching them, but Jim was deeply disturbed by Mister Blake's conspicuous lack of mullet. Without it, the man almost looked presentable! Yet, knowing it was Dafydd, he knew that him approaching was yet another conversation that he desperately wished to avoid, but with the warlock's new appearance, Jim got a bit of an idea.

"Uh, Dafydd. Dafydd Blake. He went to school with Ciel and I at Warwick Academy." the menace explained while trying to sound like a posh person like the ones he'd seen in movies in order to test the waters a bit. "It's the most prestigious school in the country, you see. He is a very talented warlock from a very good family."

"Oh!" Renee raised her brows and seemed somewhat pleased by this news.

"Shall I introduce you?"

"Yes, if you'd like." the woman said casually, although her face said she was more eager than her words conveyed. It was always important to know as many nobles and other important people of wealth as possible and to be in their good graces, as one never knows when they may prove useful to you. That, and she wasn't quite sure how to be friends with most common folk—especially those who were uninterested in her pedigree. Thus, it was perfectly understandable for her to hope she could make a friend out of the warlock.

Dafydd's eyes fixated on the menace as the Phantomhive approached him with the vampiress in tow, causing a smile to form on his face. It was incredibly rare for Jim to approach Dafydd instead of the other way around, so it was somewhat of an event worth getting excited over. The boost of confidence he gained prompted the warlock to walk with his head a little higher as he now swaggered forward toward the menace.

"Hey, there, Spitfire!" Dafydd greeted with superb coordination. "Are you here to pick up your little present?"

"The present commissioned by my _husband _for our _anniversary,_ yes." Jim replied. "I wanted to introduce you to an old friend of Ciel's first, though. This is Mademoiselle Renee Lapointe, from France. She's one of the people who has made her way to our little island recently, and I was hoping to introduce her to a few important supernaturals that a woman of her stature may find comfort in knowing."

While the warlock was skeptical for a moment, Jim's flattery worked wonders, prompting Dafydd to give the woman a good look. Her hair was blonde—a golden hue in comparison to the Phantomhive's paler locks, with bold, blue eyes and a pretty face. In other words: She was exactly Dafydd's type. He wasn't picky when it came to gender, so he felt more than comfortable with that. Although Dafydd certainly carried a torch for Sir Phantomhive, he wasn't so stupid as to believe that he had a very high chance with him, and thus felt as though he shouldn't let the opportunity the the menace was blatantly presenting to him slip away.

"Of course." he smiled warmly at the woman.

With that, Jim turned his attention to Renee. "Mademoiselle Lapointe, this is Mister Dafydd Blake."

"How do you do?" Mister Blake inquired, holding out a hand to the woman. When she accepted his offer, he bowed his head and took her hand in his before kissing the back of it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle."

"The pleasure is all mine." Renee replied with a light blush in her cheeks. She offered the man a curtsy while Jim's brow furrowed in confusion as to what he had done. This wasn't at all what he had intended, but the demon decided to roll with it.

"Mister Blake works in the Research Department and is an expert when it comes to magic." the baronet continued. "He has helped my husband and I when it comes to our weapons many times and has even engaged in a few acts of heroism himself alongside us! In fact, Dafydd, you should tell her all about the time you helped me rescue Ciel from the Castle of Krampus several years ago! I'm afraid I really must take my leave, but it would be a shame to leave the lady in a place like this on her own while she waits for her appointment."

"Huh?" Dafydd questioned before the realisation of what the demon was doing smacked him upside the head. "Oh! Right! You're absolutely right. I will be more than happy to escort the Mademoiselle to her appointment."

"Ciel needed rescued?" the woman inquired. "Do tell! I simply cannot believe that he would ever need it, with the way he is, so do grant me the particulars."

"Yes! It was a very serious situation with a few details that are… admittedly classified..." Of course the warlock had to hesitate, as Jim would undoubtedly be the first to report him should Dafydd reveal the location of certain magical artifacts to a random outsider, but he continued. "But! I am more than happy to regale you with the important parts!"

Suddenly, Jim felt horrible for leaving this poor woman at the mercy of this self-important creep. She seemed happy enough with the situation, laughing and smiling along with whatever Dafydd said, but it was hard to say how long that would last. Jim knew that the warlock got irritating fast and wondered if he shouldn't have ditched Renee in such a way. It was selfish of him, he knew, and wondered if it was worth getting out of having to uncomfortably chat with them for a few minutes. Renee was on her own, now, unaware of what uncouth displays of arrogance awaited her.

Thoughts such as these were on Jim's mind even as he opened the door to the office. Unsurprisingly, he found everyone hard at work, documenting their various findings on their own, respective experiments, but a few took notice as he arrived. A few of them got up from their seats. One went off to one of the other labs while another, Wink, stood up to greet him.

"Hey, Jim." the woman casually said, sticking her hands in her pocket. "Here for the goods?"

"You make it sound like it's something shady. Like it's a weapons deal or something." the menace replied, earning a small smile.

"It's not shady if the government does it." sarcastically answered the witch before turning and starting to wander off. "C'mon. We've got it in one of the smaller rooms. Cheryl over there's gone off to get the boss, but I can get it out for you."

"Thanks, Wink." Jim followed her with similar levels of urgency.

They walked through a small sea of desks that eventually thinned out into a hallway with many doors on either side of the channel. Wink led the demon to one and put in a code into the keypad on it in order to disarm the lock. Once inside, they found themselves in the same small room that Ciel was inside of before, with the table, but only one case remaining on top of it.

"Miranda will want to be the one to show it to you, but it's right here." Wink informed, tapping the metal case with her finger.

"It's surprisingly small." the menace observed. "I'm thinking a small knife or a silencer or something."

"Good guess, but also not even close."

"Huh?! Not a knife or silencer… hmm..." Rubbing his chin, the Phantomhive thought. "Brass knuckles?"

"Nope."

"Billy club?"

"Nope."

"Mace?"

"In what situation would you of all people need mace?"

"Dunno. Now that I'm thinking about it, though, I kinda wanna use a billy club sometime. Not a fancy one or anything, but a homemade one. When I was in school, I used to fill a sock with change, so it feels kind of nostalgic somehow."

"Again, a person like you would not need mace under any circumstances, so why bother?"

"Brass knuckles are also more subtle than my gauntlets. I should get a pair for myself sometime..."

"You're being awfully ungrateful to your husband and more importantly, me..."

Their conversation, however, was cut right there. "Sorry I'm late!" declared Miss Ackerman as she flung the door open. "My subordinate had a hard time prying me from my work..."

"It's alright. I'm awfully excited, though!" Jim grinned in response, prompting a bit of a skeptical look from the witch at the table with him. "I'm having trouble guessing what it could be!"

"Well, wait no longer!" Miranda declared, pacing around the table before finally setting her hands on the latches of the case. "In this box is a unique weapon that will not only prove to be versatile, but also strike fear in the hearts of your opponents in combat! Behold!"

Undoing the latches on the box, Miranda opened it and gestured to its contents, inviting Jim to peer inside. He was just as unsure as to what it could be as he was before he saw it, however. He hadn't the slightest idea as to what he was looking at. Ten, small, oddly-shaped, triangles sat in the box, pressed into their nice little foam pockets to keep them from knocking about. Jim wanted to say something nice, but he simply didn't know what!

"Call out your jarnglofar." the woman instructed, reaching into the case to pull out one of the triangles. Doing as he was told, the menace called upon the black flames that came from unweaving his demonic garb, specifically calling upon the jarnglofar. As he did so, gold gauntlets decorated with runes and lions appeared on his hands, with a guard crawling part of the way up his forearms.

"Give me your right hand." she continued, taking the menace's hand in her own before only taking hold of just his index finger. Then, she attached the triangle to the tip of his gauntlet, causing a flash of realisation and excitement over his face.

"Claws!" the menace declared, his eyes practically sparkling as Miranda went through and carefully attached each claw to each finger.

"Yes, and since they can be attached and detached, I was wondering if you could summon the gloves both with and without them in case you'd like to keep it as a surprise to your enemies."

Once the menace had one hand done, he did just that, making the claws themselves vanish with black flames at his fingertips before making them reappear again with a flex of his hand. The demon was grinning like a lunatic as he watched it happen, doing it again and again to amuse himself while Miranda was still working.

"I'm glad that works." she said. "I was worried it might interfere with your ability to punch if it didn't!"

"They're amazing!" the menace said, flexing his fingers with the claws attached. "What can they cut through?"

"Well, we tested them on pig cadavers using a hydraulic arm that swung the weapon, but we couldn't accurately get a reading with the amount of force that you can actually deliver without knocking over the machine!" Miranda stated. "The claws can do a great deal of damage with a smaller amount of power, though. They can slash and dig into flesh just fine."

"That's all I need to know, I suppose."

"Do you want to try them out?"

"I'd love to!" the menace enthusiastically replied before stopping himself. "Oh, but, I probably shouldn't in one of my nicer suits..."

"We can offer you a temp uniform and a shower afterwards."

The blonde hesitated for a moment, knowing that he should probably go home soon and that he had a pressing need to do so up until he walked into the office. That desire vanished immediately upon seeing his new weapon, however, and he was desperate to try it out. He did have things he needed to do. Important things. Internationally important things. Yet, the lion ultimately wanted to try out his new claws.

"Alright. You got me. I'll do it." he said. "Bring on the pigs."

Enthusiastically clapping her hands together with a wide grin, Miranda rushed out of the room in order to get things ready for him, leaving Jim and Wink alone in the lab without any real explanation. Luckily, they knew her well enough to wage a guess.

"You can wait at one of the empty desks." Wink offered, opening the door for the demon. "She's really excited."

"I bet." the menace nodded. "It's not every day you get to test new weapons out on demons."

* * *

**A/N: Greetings, n'er-do-wells. Here's a random chapter about weapons because reasons...**

**I wanted to do a whole other bit with Johnathan at the end of this, but this is already like, 10 pages and I want to update sort of on time maybe? I'll just put it in the next chapter, so remember this one probably? **

**Maybe?**

**Depends on what I end up doing with it.**

**I go back to school on the 13th and I am not thrilled about it... I have all of the terrible classes I don't want to do basically. I've put them all off for way too long.**

**At the same time, though, I've reached that point in my vacation where it's like: "What is there even to do? I'm bored!" I mean, I could be writing DLTD, but that's so haaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrd lmao**

**Nah, I'm kidding. I've just discovered the joys of dicking around on youtube and watching... whatever it is I watch on TV? Cop shows? Yeah, It's cop shows, probably... Specifically, British cop shows? Also Ghibli movies and spoopy ghost sighting videos. I'm starting to run out of good ones of the latter, though...**

**Anyway, I should probably like, sleep sometime tonight...**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	49. Dull and Old

Screws were turned and nails were hammered while other workmen installed light fixtures high above the floor in the ORSAP headquarters building. The front desk was perfectly installed and there were people working there, directing operatives around the building whenever they got lost amongst the tarps and construction materials. Several departments were rather firmly in place, chiefly combat, the beginnings of a vehicle dispatch, IT, and people to handle the payroll. Militias did not work if they weren't being paid and that was who was making up the majority of ORSAP's forces at that moment. People with honeybees on their uniforms and other logos were abundant as they made their way to their respective assignments.

The ORSAP building was large, with training ranges offsite, so that the group could be easily accessed in Paris. The massive building was old, with ornate finishings on the outside, and was once nearly turned into a hotel, and then an office building, but whenever someone tried to convert it, the money always ran out. That wasn't the case this time, however, or else the next owner might have some questions about there being an indoor gunrange inside. Renovations and organisation was difficult, since their leaders were still abroad, but following orders based on the recommendations of HELLSING, the group was starting to gain traction and take care of business, just as they should. There was still not a lot in the way of supernatural relations, but that was just as well, according to some. Others, were not so enthused about it, but that was most likely because those particular agents were supernaturals themselves.

"She's very talented!" politely stated Mister Damien Chaput, ORSAP's resident warlock as he watched a young girl dance in a tutu on his coworker's phone.

"You don't have to be nice." replied the woman next to him, moving the device away so it was out of his view again. She stood there, watching the recording of her daughter's ballet recital a moment longer before slipping her phone into one of the many pockets on her person. "She's no professional, but she's having fun, so that's what matters."

Miss Annie Perrott was a tall woman, dressed in all black with boots, pouches, and a gun on her hip like everyone else. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, out of her face so that she could do her work, yet she also wore a full face of makeup to do her job. Her eyebrows were drawn on and her lipstick was bright red, but she swore up and down that it was waterproof. A few people picked on her for it, but Damien wasn't going to. She could have her fun. It wasn't easy, being a vampire in Paris at the time, especially when she had a young, and very much human daughter to raise on her own.

She was never eager to be called out on a mission, but none of them ever were. It was a job, and not a great one at that, but it paid extremely well and kept them safe from other agents of ORSAP, at least. One could wind up retiring rather quickly if one was frugal with their earnings, so it wasn't all bad, they supposed.

"I got called out on a really awful one the other night." Annie sighed. "Woman starved herself until she accidentally ate her baby. Both of them had to be put down. I'm not quite over it yet, I guess..."

"That's rough. Hugo's still bummed because Mister Stark killed one of his old friends from the catacombs." Damien informed, pointing off in the general direction of Hugo's room.

"Poor thing… I hope he's doing alright… Has anyone gone to check on him?"

"I went earlier. He's trying to see the bright side of things, but he's struggling with it a bit. Beginning of the week and already, nobody's gotten through it unscathed… Well, except maybe Pierre, but he's, y'know, Pierre."

"Psh, Pierre can keel over for all I care." the woman scoffed. "It would serve him right."

"Did you fight again?"

"'Fight,' no… I wish I could get away with fighting him, sometimes. He needs a good punch to the face." Annie turned to the young man and waved her hands around wildly. "He found out what I used to do before this gig, so his gross comments have increased! I can't wait until the day he tries something with a woman with less patience than me."

"Ugh… Yeah… He's like that..."

"We have to watch him like a hawk and it's so frustrating! For some reason, a grown man can't be expected to control himself, but women have to be expected to grin and bear it. What's worse, I think he might be saying things to that English girl, too, but I can't prove it since I don't speak the language..."

"I can listen in a little more carefully, if you want."

"Would you? I'm worried about her. I mean, she's weird, but she's so young..."

Damien laughed at that. "You're such a mom, Annie."

"I am! Don't get me started after you, too, Damien Chaput… What's with that makeup on your eyes?"

"It's magical..."

"Is that a euphemism or something?"

"No, it's for magical purposes!"

The pair playfully bickered while they waited for their next assignment. Inevitably, the time for them to leave came, but they would not be led by Johnathan. No, his relationship with poor Hugo was a bit strained since their mission together in the catacombs, but more importantly, the demon had other plans. They involved sitting alone in his apartment and waiting, much to his lamentation.

Truly, it seemed that much of his life upon arriving in Paris had been waiting. It wasn't nearly the same as when he was traveling the globe in search of allies. He had taken remnants of the attack on Buckingham Palace and traveled the coasts of Norway, Finland, and Sweden in search of potential elf or troll settlements that might still have loyalties to the Scarlet Order and wish to seek revenge on HELLSING for the death of Preston Omid, but there weren't any takers. The elves brushed him off and the most he got out of the trolls was one of them wanting to turn him into stew in Norway.

Ultimately, he avoided places with antifreak measures that might harm him. The Scandinavian nations were gaining progress in the field every day, so he had to be cautious while there. Yet, at the same time, he was attracted to areas where human conflict was abundant. It was harder to find than he thought it would be, but eventually, he found what he was looking for! He made his way through Asia, heading southeast, before finally coming across the small island of Namara, where he was pleased to find himself in the middle of a nasty civil war.

The government there had hired some mercenaries from the United States to hunt down any rebels that were hiding in the jungle. That is how Johnathan had met Honeycutt and his men and the rest is simply history. All this time, he had been plotting and killing, plotting and killing, but now, it was time to wait—wait on a stupid meeting. He hadn't realised that downtime like this could feel so empty. Ordinarily, this would mean that it was time to move on, but he had things to do.

But for now, the demon sat there, in his apartment, staring into space. The place had not one single decoration throughout its rooms, instead containing only that which was what was "essential." There was a table and chair in the kitchen, along with basic appliances—refrigerator, microwave, dishwasher, and an oven—all completely unused despite the demon having lived there for a while. He simply didn't have the drive to cook, nor did his tastebuds particularly crave a meal. In his livingroom, there was a sofa, a coffeetable, and a lamp. The most interesting, but "normal" thing in that room was the bookshelf haphhazardly placed against one of the walls, as its contents gave some semblance of a personality. The only books that were on it were related to war and combat, but it was something, at least. There were a few guns mounted on the wall and a shelf with bullets and various weapon-related accouterments. In one room, there was a desk, a lamp, a chair, and a computer, but nothing else. Plain towels were in the bathroom and in the bedroom was a bed and a nightstand, both of which went completely unused, as the demon simply had no desire to sleep. He didn't want for anything, it seemed. Day in and day out, he sat, went to work, and returned to sit again. How dull. What a boring life, he led.

Yet, there was one thing that gave him drive—one thing that he felt attached to and yearned for. Lord Ciel Phantomhive was the object of his desire and he longed for the day where he would get to face him in combat again. They parted so horribly, last time, with Ciel heartlessly shooting Johnathan in the back of the head. The memory burned him up inside, as he recalled how beautifully the man dealt the killing blow. There was no hesitation. There was no warning. There was barely any emotion at all. It was simply monsterous. The beauty of it impressed Johnathan to no end and yet, being tossed aside in such a way angered him. How dare Ciel treat him so coldly?! How dare he toss him aside as if he were nothing to him?! Was he nothing to him? Johnathan hoped not. If he was, that simply wouldn't do and it would simply be a disappointment! After all of that hard work Johnathan put into making Ciel angry, was it simply all for nothing?

Johnathan did not get the reaction he was hoping for. He wanted the Watchdog to be enraged. He wanted to see fire in his eyes and venom oozing from his pores. He wanted him to roar as loudly as he could from deep within his chest and to advance toward him with malice in his heart and bloody vengeance on his mind. He wanted to see the legendary fire within the Watchdog that reduced everything in his path to ash. Yet, what he received was cold. He didn't want cold. Ciel had other things on his mind at that moment—things that did not involve Johnathan and that was simply the cruelest thing he could have done, rendering him into a poor, dejected, one-sided rival.

Standing up, he walked over to his bizarre wall of weapons and took one down. It was a unique piece that no one else in the world possessed apart from himself, that he knew of- except, of course, Ciel. The pistol in his hands was cold as he had gone without being used in quite some time. If it broke, Johnathan would simply be heartbroken. This was one of the strange guns with a bayonet on the end that he had fought Ciel with. In fact, Ciel killed him with the other half of the set. The Romulus and Remus twin pistols were passed down to Johnathan from his mentor and adoptive father-figure, Heinrich Strumer, strangely named after the founder of Rome and his brother. How appropriate that they shared the twin weapons and how appropriate that he was in possession of Remus. Ciel, on the other hand, had kept Romulus as a keepsake, he was sure of it! At first, he thought he might miss its other half, but it strangely brought him comfort that it was gone. No matter where in the world he went, no matter what he was to Ciel, Ciel still had a part of him in his possession.

The thought delighted him, making him feel a bit hopeful. Yet, there was still more for him to do until they met again. Placing the weapon back, he looked at the watch on his wrist before walking into his bizarrely barren and black and white office. There, he pulled out his chair, sat down, and then meticulously opened up his laptop. He started it up, opened up the program he needed, and then waited, staring at his watch. The seconds ticked by one by one as Johnathan's free hand hovered over the button on his computer. Then, at the exact moment that he had planned, he hit the "call" button and waited for Minister Eugenie Munier to respond. It annoyed him that she did not respond immediately, but he knew that he could only expect so much from humans.

Then, the screen wavered for a moment before he saw the woman inside of her hotel room. Johnathan's eyes immediately darted around, checking the area behind her before actually paying attention to her. Miss Munier was dressed officially, still in her clothes from the various meetings and seminars she had attended that day. He smiled pleasantly at her and tried not to be overly aggressive about it.

"Hello, Minister Munier. How are you, today?" he asked, staying pleasant, but the woman didn't match his enthusiasm.

"Hello, Mister Stark." she said while trying not to sigh. "I'm fine. Tired, but otherwise alright."

"Meetings, again?" he asked.

"Lots of them. All good and useful information, of course, but still difficult to sit through one after another." Eugenie sat up straight and collected herself, folding her hands in front of herself and leaning forward. "So, how are things back home?"

"Everything is moving steadily with what we have. Things will most likely improve once we have the systems you discussed in place. For now, though, differentiating 'hostile' and 'non-hostile' supernaturals is difficult, in particular, with vampires."

"That is to be expected, I'm afraid." Reaching down to the floor, she picked up her purse and put it in her lap, rummaging around in it for a pack of cigarettes. As she placed it between her lips and lit it, she continued. "How is the facility?"

"Getting there. It isn't at it's full potential, just yet, but it's functional. More staff in non-combative fields would be preferable above most other things. As for combative personnel, they have been successful in their missions thus far and are relatively easy to train, given their prior experience."

"Good… Good… I'm glad things are going well. It must be a nightmare managing the place."

"Mister Honeycutt is doing alri-"

"I know it's you doing it." the woman interrupted, causing the demon's expression to falter. He frowned, not liking that he didn't know what to expect from her. "Honeycutt can run a militia. Well, barely, anyway. I looked into his track-record. It seems as though the credit for leading the men and keeping them organised went to a former American Navy SEAL that he had hired. He was killed in combat about a year ago. Since then, Honeycutt's been struggling financially, as he struggled to make any headway in the battles he participated in since then… Until Namara, that is. That's where he met you, isn't that right Mister Stark? You're keeping in his good graces, aren't you?"

Johnathan stared at the woman momentarily, calculating his next move. She was thorough. Of course, it was only natural that she should be, given her line of work. War is best waged if everything runs as a well-oiled machine. Admittedly, the demon did find it odd that ORSAP had been making the amount of headway it was in such a short amount of time. Perhaps the three ministers weren't as clueless about the situation as he initially thought. They may have needed help, initially, but they learned fast and thought quickly on their feet. Johnathan needed to be the same way.

"You caught me red-handed." the demon replied, putting his hands up in the air. "How scary! I guess I should've counted on you looking into things! The fact of the matter is: he's the one with the money, and being on his good side is how I stay in a position where I can keep things moving, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it a bit of a secret."

"Even you can make mistakes, it seems. What I wonder, though, is what exactly does Mister Honeycutt do, then?"

"Not very much, if I'm honest. Truth be told, it would be much cheaper to just buy the company outright. It would go against the idea of training an elite force from the good boys and girls in uniform that France enlists fair and square, but it would be a cheaper alternative than allowing Honeycutt to set whatever price he wants."

"And then you would be in charge outright, correct?"

"As a side effect, perhaps, unless you see fit to station me in a different position."

Eugenie Munier leaned forward, folding her fingers together and resting her chin on her knuckles. She narrowed her eyes at the suspicious man before her, trying to work out what his game was. Even after all of her research, she could not find one shred of information about him. It was as though he just showed up out of nowhere on the island of Namara one day. She assumed that "Emil Stark" was an alias, as a result, but couldn't figure out his real one. She even doubted that he was even human, but that could have been chalked up by the suspicion caused by the realisation that supernatural beings are indeed anywhere and could be anyone. It could also be the fact that once he showed up, the Honeycutt militia was able to pull through a job that almost cost them everything, seemingly all on his own. It was as though he, himself, was a military force to be reckoned with all on his own. If that were indeed the case, Johnathan would be an invaluable asset to ORSAP. Yet, because of the dubious nature of his intentions, she was somewhat hesitant to trust him.

"What makes you think that Mister Honeycutt will sell his private army?" the woman questioned. "He has a very nice racket drummed up, here, with us paying him seemingly indefinitely. Why would he sell it and make short term money instead?"

"Well, I know this may come as a shock to you, but Mister Honeycutt isn't very bright..." Johnathan playfully whispered. "If you really want to buy the company, I can probably do some convincing on your behalf, if you want. I'm sure I can talk him into it."

"Let me discuss it with the other ministers before I give you a definite answer on that. I'm sure they'll agree, but that is the way things operate around here."

"Of course. I didn't expect you to have a plan right away. My loyalty is to ORSAP before Honeycutt, Missus Munier. No matter what the ministers decide, I will be right beside all of you."

"It's just 'Miss,' thank you."

"Pardon. 'Miss' Munier." Johnathan smiled. "Is there anything else you want to know while I'm here?"

"No. That will be all for today." Eugenie replied, shifting from her seat somewhat.

"Until next time, then." the demon stated. "Goodnight, Miss Munier."

Johnathan ended the call and shut his computer, leaning back and letting out a sigh. One step at a time, he was getting closer. His patience was being tested every day as he resisted the urge to barrel himself forward and cause a ruckus. He needed to control the destruction if he was going to acquire his desired results. Standing up, he smiled to himself at the thought. He left the room and grabbed his jacket before leaving the apartment entirely, locking the door behind him as he went.

He lived on-site, you see, unlike his coworkers. It was one of the perks of his position. Thus, his destination was only a hop, skip, and a jump away. The ORSAP weapons department was a bit bare bones, as it was in its early stages, but they had all of their necessary wares. Mostly, the guns were rather cheap, as they were purchased on a militia budget, but the government had given them more standard-issue army weapons as well. Some lucky operatives got to be current in their tools, but Johnathan? His were more cutting edge and they were ready for him to pick up.

He walked through the mob of soldiers, mercenaries, and staff, rudely nudging them with his shoulders and staring them down if they attempted to nudge him. He walked past the lines that the personnel gravitated toward in order to pick up their weapons, all the way up to a part of the counter that was suspiciously vacant. Sometimes, a few people who thought they were clever would try to walk up to the old man behind the counter there and demand their orders, only to be turned away and told to get back in the proper line. Not Johnathan, though. The old man blinked, peering out at the demon from behind thick glasses before setting down his paper and getting up out of his chair. Johnathan stopped in front of him and the two stood there in silence broken by the murmuring of those around them.

The old man cleared his throat. With a roll of his eyes, Johnathan placed his hands flat on the counter in front of him. Once the old man was satisfied, he grunted and bent down, disappearing behind the barrier between them.

"I take it you're looking to pick up your order?" he asked as he rummaged around.

"That's why I'm here." said the demon. "I'm surprised that you have it. You're very fast."

"Well, it would've been faster, but some of the parts needed to be made custom. In fact, a lot of them needed to be." muttered the old man, grunting again as he lifted a heavy, metal, case off of the ground and onto the counter. He paused to catch his breath. "It was a fun exercise, though. It was nice, not having to take human strength into consideration."

"I can take whatever recoil you have." Johnathan replied as the man turned the case around. Then, Johnathan placed his thumbs on the latches and opened it. A smile crawled across his face at the sight.

An unusual pair of twin guns sat inside. They were massive and chrome. On the ends were their strangest, yet most distinguishing feature—a feature that only Johnathan himself used, as far as he knew. There were knives acting as bayonets on the end of the heavy pistols, appearing menacing as they were a bit gaudy. He picked up one of the weapons and held it firmly, gauging how it might feel in use.

"It's heavy." he said. "That shouldn't be a problem, though. It seems perfect, as far as I can tell."

"I sure hope it is." the old man behind the counter replied. "It would be a shame if the first custom ORSAP weapon was a failure. That, and I'm afraid of the consequences..."

"Then I would make them again. Better." Johnathan casually stated, still admiring his weapon. "What calibur is it?"

"It will shoot 50 magnum bullets, both regular and anti-freak, of course. Any higher, and we might need to start completely from scratch."

"Well, it's only the first, isn't it? I'm sure you'll do better next time."

"You're displeased?"

"No, but there's always room in the future."

Placing the gun back in its case, Johnathan closed it before holding onto it by its handle. With the case securely at his side, he bidded the old man at the counter farewell. This was satisfactory. While Johnathan was a demon of few hobbies and interests, he had a keen eye for instruments of death and knew exactly what he liked and disliked. More than anything, however, so long as it could kill or maim a demon, he was happy. His heart yearned for close-quarters combat with the object of his amourous hatred, so no long-distance weaponry would do. He wanted to be up close and personal with the Phantomhive, but perhaps that was a weakness of his. He understood this, however, and replayed the fight in which the man slayed him over and over again in his head, finding things that he could do differently each time. After all of his calculations, he hoped that his enemy would be overwhelmed by him, but first thing's first: he had to get Ciel's attention. Luckily for Johnathan, he had his ways.

For now, however, he returned to his room, passing operatives rushing to their next assignments, whether it be mercenaries running to the next supernatural threat to dispatch, or IT walking quickly toward the annoying office of someone who forgot to turn on their computer monitor. Even children at the base had their assignments, so long as they stayed out of sight when anyone important came by. Once home, however, he mechanically carried out his own tasks as well, starting from walking toward the refrigerator.

Opening the door on top and peering into the ice-coated freezer, the demon selected a dubious-looking microwavable dinner before shutting the door again. Taking it in hand, he turned on his heel and returned to the front room, setting the box on the coffeetable in front of the sofa before sitting down. Upon opening the box, however, he didn't find a frozen dinner at all, but this did not surprise him in the slightest. Removing the box's contents, the demon set the container to the side before thumbing through the small, Namarian language book that now sat on his table. He had time to kill before his next call, so he thought it may be wise to make the attempt, despite how little the subject actually interested him. It was all necessary. It was all a part of the plan. Truly, Ciel should be flattered that he is going through such trouble for him. If the Phantomhive wasn't, however, Johnathan had no idea as to what he would do.

* * *

**A/N: Greetings, n'er-do-wells... I'm sorry that this is so late. School's started, so I've been messing with that nonsense this week, but more devastatingly, when I was just about done, I opened the file again to find that several pages didn't save. I was horrified and did not write for a few days after that... So, originally, this chapter was a bit longer, but I hope it's just as good!**

**Johnathan is... confusing. He's the thing I have the most notes about in this arc. By now, I understand what's in his head, but I'm still learning how exactly to have him interact with other things and people in the world based on that information. I'm still getting the hang of it, so bear with me!**

**Progress with this arc is slow, but that's how it's been going lately with some of them! How many did the Abhartach storyline span? Many... I dunno how long this one is going to wind up. I'm hoping to get to the good stuff soon, but I know I'm going to need a bit more build-up!**

**Also! You may have seen this on tumblr, if you follow me there, but lately I've been thinking about doing this kinda side thing(?) where I just post random documents from around the DLTD universe? Problem is, I have no idea how to categorise it! And I also would have to draw a cover and I have no ideas...**

** I have a few files written already. They're very short (some of them are only a hundred something words), so they might not be that interesting, but I find them fun. Most of them are random case files from HELLSING, some e-mails, and a few letters. I'm hoping to write some excerpts from supernatural books, too! Let me know if that's something y'all would be interested in!**

**Ah, that's all I have to say for now, I think... I say that, but then I'll post it and go "wait, I forgot THIS!" That's always how it is lmao**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	50. Warranted Suspicion

Once again, Jim put on one of his nicer suits. Today was one of those days were he rejected the cheap, disposable suits of his cold, callous work as an assassin and instead presented to the world a man who is personable and trustworthy. These were not suits meant to be splattered with blood and chunks of greymatter, but for networking. The distinction was important, as it mattered as to which aspect of himself he presented to others and which headspace he currently resided in. At one point, dressing like this felt alien to him, like he was wearing some sort of disguise, but now, both types for the different types of "business" he engaged in felt natural. Somehow, when he dressed for the more "acceptable" parts of his job, however, he felt a little bit more prideful. It was different from the power he felt when donning the assassins' suit—still strong, but in a different way that he couldn't quite describe.

Still, despite looking and feeling the part, the blonde Phantomhive felt nervous. While it wasn't the first time that he had interacted with the wider, international supernatural maintenance community, it was still an anxiety-inducing experience. Most humans were afraid and skeptical of demons, and truth be told, Jim didn't blame them. The vast majority of his species were dangerous and very well should not be trusted. He knew he would have to earn that trust, but also knew that he could rely on the citizens of Gehenna to help him as he gave the three ministers of ORSAP a tour of their city.

Furthermore, he could also count on the help of his husband, who decided to get dressed up in his nice clothes as well. He tied a strong, windsor knot around his neck and changed his earrings, standing at the vanity in their dressing room while Jim checked his appearance in the full-length mirror elsewhere in the room. Then, Ciel watched the blonde's reflection in the vanity grow closer and closer until he felt hands grasp at his hips from behind. Jim rested his chin on the other man's shoulder, watching their reflections for a moment as Ciel decided on which eyepatch to wear.

"Thanks for coming along, darling. I know they speak English, so I'm not really sure how much I'll need you, but it makes me feel better, just in case." the blonde said, moving away as his beau reached up to put on his eyepatch. "Want me to tie it for you?"

"Can you reach it?" the bluenette asked.

"I'm not that much shorter than you. I could be taller than you if I wanted. Gimme."

Ciel rolled his visible eye as his sealed one was covered. Jim took the strings from his hands and began to fasten it in an admittedly unnecessary gesture, but it was one of those odd acts of intimacy that Ciel came to enjoy as he got older. Still, the Earl answered his beau's original statement.

"I don't mind going with you. In fact, I like watching you work. Perhaps it would have been useful if you remembered anything from French in school, though, instead of just studying to the test."

"But then what would I need a husband for?"

"Companionship?"

"Mm… I _guess _so..." Tugging on the strings in his hands, the menace tightened the knot on the back of his spouse's head and let go, placing his hands on the man's shoulders instead. He smiled at Ciel's reflection in the mirror before stepping away to pick up the jacket resting on the chair next to the vanity and holding it up for Ciel to slip his arms into.

After straightening his jacket on his shoulders, Ciel turned around and pinched his husban's stomach, forcing him to jump back a bit. "Shall we head out, then, associate of mine?"

"No, no, no, you are my associate. You defer to me now."

"Right, right. You're in charge. After all, you have the experience… from working under me."

"I remember. You were so cute back then."

"And now?"

"Passable." the blonde stated. The pair continued to banter all the way out the door, choosing to keep their jokes to a minimum in the car as they discussed how the day would go. The jokes came to a screeching halt once they reached the maze of abandoned buildings that hid the supernatural town of Gehenna.

The streets were not well looked after, with pot holes strewn about and the lines between each lanes completely faded. The buildings were in a serious state of disrepair—unusable for supernaturals to live in without some serious renovation. While it was ordinary for the Phantomhives, when the three ministers were driven in, they began to dread whatever it was they may find, as what they have seen thus far left the impression that they were being driven into some sort of war zone. Then, just as the trio of humans arrived at their destination, they were greeted by a massive gate with armed guards positioned at it. They knew what was supposed to lie beyond this gate. They knew that the supernaturals here were supposedly hospitable. Their immediate surroundings, though, made them wonder as to exactly how much of that information was correct.

"Are we sure that this is the right place?" questioned Sabine Devreaux, the minister of research. She spoke to her compatriots in their mother tongue, keeping their conversation practically secret from the guards. "This isn't at all what they described..."

"I can't see anything through the gate." Quincampoix replied, squinting as he tried his best to sneak a peek inside. "I don't feel good about this..."

"It looks like a prison." observed minister Munier. "Perhaps they don't want the supernaturals to get back out. I suppose that makes sense, given how difficult it must be to keep tabs on each supernatural at all times."

"They said it's a town, but if it's laid out like one, does that mean that we'll be walking through them freely?" Devreaux asked, seeming a bit shaken. "If they're that dangerous, then is this a really good idea?"

"Surely, they won't let us get hurt." stated Mister Quincampoix. "It would be horrible for international relations. I'm sure they have some safety measures in place."

"Regardless, the person giving the tour is a supernatural as well—a demon, at that." Miss Munier kept fluctuating between being skeptical of the practises of HELLSING, and curious as to what was going to happen. She had seen and heard what their own organisation was up to and how the supernaturals within it are getting on, so witnessing one of the most fearsome supernaturals known to humankind in person was going to be interesting.

While the group had not heard of some supernaturals that lived beyond the wall in front of them and were realising that they were ignorant to the true nature of others more and more each day, they knew the stories of demons. They were ugly, inhuman, abominations that led human beings astray. They devoured souls, dragged them to hell, or gathered them up for whatever nefarious purpose Satan had for them. They were masters of lies and were incapable of deriving joy from anything but suffering and cruelty. To deal with demons was more than foolishness. It was unwise in ways beyond description. It wasn't merely loss of life that one was risking, but eternal damnation! Naturally, the ministers were on edge, already feeling as though they had been tricked.

Then, what should drive up to them but a pitch black, well-polished, Mercedes Benz and who should step out of it? The engine switched off and a blonde man stepped out of the driver's side door. He was pale with icy blue eyes and a cat-like face. The way he moved matched his somewhat feline appearance, as his movements were graceful like a dancer, but he didn't seem at all delicate. He was sturdy—almost immovable. The blonde man seemed contradictory. While he was indeed beautiful in both his appearance and his mannerisms, he still had a roughness to him. Regal, but plebeian. Soft, but strong. Slightly feminine, but with masculine features. He seemed well-rounded on his own, but compared to the man who exited the car after him, he seemed more one way in comparison.

The man in the passenger seat struck the ministers as immediately frightening. Dark hair, a deep blue eye, and a visible facial abnormality. There was a stigma to the eyepatch, Ciel knew it all too well, but with the stern, almost menacing expression he wore, that was where the ministers' minds went. He seemed brutal—vicious, even, like a large dog on a chain. With a larger stature than the blonde's, he seemed particularly nasty, but with his nice suit, there was a sort of class to him. Ciel was polished, implying that he wasn't merely the muscle. There was a much more frightening quality to his appearance, however. Eugenie Munier, the minister of defense, recognised him.

The only problem was, he was supposed to be in Paris and he didn't wear an eyepatch. Her blood went cold at the thought. He very well could have called her from London and been lying to her this whole time, but she checked the IP address. He was exactly where he should have been, unless he drove from Paris to London during the night. Even if he was up to something, however, what could it be? She had no idea. If he was trying to fool her, why put himself out in the open now?

"Hello~!" Jim greeted, holding out a hand to shake. "You must be 'Le Trois Ministres!' Am I saying that right? I'm Sir Jim Phantomhive. I'll be showing you around today!"

"_Le Trois Ministeres_, yes." Mister Quincampoix replied, correcting the blonde's accent before very tentatively shaking his hand. Shaking hands with a demon was very seldom a good thing, but no promises or anything that could be taken as such had been presented and social convention required it, so Urbain went ahead. "I'm Urbain Quincampoix, the Minister of Foreign Affairs."

Moving down the line, Jim offered his hand to Missus Devreaux. "Sabine Devereaux. Minister of Research." the woman stated as he carried on down the line. Miss Munier seemed out of it, but eventually came back to reality.

"Oh, uh, Eugenie. Eugenie Munier. Minister of Defense." she said.

"Pleased to meet all of you!" Jim politely stated before gesturing to the intimidating man with him. "This is Lord Ciel Phantomhive, my husband. He works with the agency on missions from time to time like I do. He isn't with Supernatural Relations, but he speaks French, so it was decided it would be best for him to tag along so nothing accidentally gets lost in translation!"

Keeping up appearances, the bluenette offered his own hand as well. The group was surprisingly slightly less hesitant to take it, despite his fearsome appearance, as they had shaken Jim's hand previously and were less afraid of possibly going to hell for touching him. Ciel, however, did not greet them in English. "_Hello, It's good to meet you._" His pronunciation was smooth—almost native, without any trace of hesitancy in his delivery.

It wasn't at all like Johnathan. It surprised Eugenie Munier. When she heard the man she knew as "Emil Stark" speak, he spoke with a distinct British accent and oftentimes searched for words mid-sentence. There was none of that in this man, however. His speech, his mannerisms, and the way he carried himself in general was different from Johnathan. It made the woman increasingly confused, but even more suspicious.

_"__You look like someone I know."_ she said. _"You wouldn't happen to know an 'Emil Stark,' would you?"_ It was a casual thing to drop into conversation. It could be completely innocent. While Ciel picked up on her anxiety, making him suspicious in kind, he pushed it aside, trying to consider the "more probable" ordinary explanation.

"_No, I'm afraid not_." he replied. "_I'd be surprised, if I'm honest, especially if he has the same hair colour as me. __The only other person I have ever seen with it is my father!_"

That was only a small footnote in the meeting, but to Eugenie, it was far more. The possibility of two people looking exactly alike was slim, so the fact that this man is indeed a different person is a cause for concern. "Emil" was British as well, so it could be that they were twins, yet Ciel did not mention him. He only mentioned a father. While that didn't mean that there were no siblings, it didn't seem likely. The way Ciel answered phrased that seemed far too exclusive. Perhaps he was hiding his sibling for whatever reason? That could make sense, but if that was the case, then why? Why did he need to hide his relation to "Emil."

Was there something wrong with him? It was strange that this demon, who was well-established in the HELLSING Organisation would be able to hide this detail, making it seem improbable. From what Eugenie had garnered from the brief snippets of information she was able to find in passing during lectures or conversation around the base, his family had been a well-respected noble family for generations. They had close ties with the crown, so it seemed less and less likely that there could be a secret brother by the second. If this were correct, however, it would make sense as to why she was unable to find any information on Mister Stark dating prior to his appearance in Namara. His name wasn't "Stark," it should be "Phantomhive," but why hide it? Wouldn't the reputation that the name carried be beneficial to him in his place at ORSAP?

A demon was training her troops. A liar was running her organisation. She needed to warn the others immediately and get a message to anyone at home who could do something about it, but with a French-speaking demon following them around all day, it would be impossible. She supposed that she could be up front with HELLSING about it, but to have such a problem right away? That was embarrassing. It could damage their perception of her competence and jeopardise their willingness to cooperate.

As Munier's mind raced, however, the group began walking toward the front gate, with the blonde demon stopping at the counter of the guard post. "Morning, Aaron. D-1 and D-3 with the ministers from France. All human. No glamour."

"Let me check you real quick..." the guard in the station said, prompting Jim to take a step back. Around his neck was a chord with a stone with a hole in the center on the end. Holding the stone between his index finger and thumb, he held it up to his eye and peered at the menace through it. "You're clear, Sir. I still need to check your husband and the others, though."

"That's fine." the blonde nodded before reaching out and gesturing toward his beau. "Ciel. Your turn."

He stepped out of the way, allowing for Ciel to undergo the same process, taking the pause to explain to their guests what the procedure was. "So, in order for us to make sure that everyone is who they say they are, ordinarily, we would have residents to enter an I.D. code into a pinpad at the counter. The code would pull up an image of the person on the computer, and the front gate guard will look at the person through the stone around his neck. That stone is a tool called an 'Adder's Stone,' and it can see through any illusion a supernatural may put up in order to make sure that they are who they say they are. Since we're well known officials, however, we don't usually put in the code. The guard will just enter in that we were here."

"Are there supernaturals who break the rules?" questioned Missus Devreaux.

"Rules about the gate? Sometimes. Usually, it's just to see through a glamour spell—a spell that changes a persons' appearances. They're used mostly by people who work out in London and can't pass for human." the demon explained. "There's been talk of introducing other steps, though. We've been hoping to get elves out here to clarify in cases where a supernatural is unregistered, but wants to do so or apply for residency."

"If you would walk up to the counter one at a time and say your name, please." Ciel chimed in, gesturing to where the group needed to go.

Sabine went first, finding herself pleasantly surprised by how she didn't even feel the magical object working. The man at the counter was polite, but had difficulty spelling each minister's name without asking how. Very quickly, they were each confirmed to be themselves to a satisfactory degree and did not run into any problems with the armed guards waiting nearby, but Munier hesitated. She watched the guard inside of the booth carefully as he stared at her through the stone. Rather, she watched the stone. She realised that this was the thing that she needed. She needed to somehow obtain an "Adder's Stone" and she needed to look at "Emil Stark" through it with her own eyes. She supposed that it wouldn't work over the computer, however. That posed a problem. Yet, one thing that she felt that she could count on was that Ciel was Ciel. As to whether or not he was telling the truth about everything else, she had yet to decide. Since he was a demon, however, she leaned toward "no" being the answer.

With a loud cry, the gates opened, revealing the supernatural city just beyond it. They anticipated run-down buildings with hellish features, so their surprise was perfectly warranted when they saw the brightly coloured buildings, decorated with the occasional mural. There were benches and boxes with flowers in them, and people walking the streets to get to wherever it was they needed to go, with some stopping to catch up and chat with one another. Surprisingly, it seemed pleasant, despite the fact that the trio still was not very used to seeing supernaturals out in the open. They looked human, but also not, which unsettled them, but they were assured that they would get used to it if given time.

"Well, let's get going." Jim stated while looking over his shoulder with a smile. "There is a lot to see!"

"Wait, we're walking?" asked Miss Munier.

"Of course! You can't get the most out of it by riding in a car!" the menace declared. Admittedly, he had no idea how walking long distances would affect them, given that he hadn't been human in a while, but he was confident that this way was the best one. "You're wearing comfortable shoes like you were asked to, right? It'll be fine. Supernaturals really aren't scary at all. In fact, there's a few humans who live here, too!"

Leaning over, his beau made his own commentary as he whispered into the blonde's ear. "Jim… You didn't_ have_ to work while on vacation..."

"I did if I wanted to get this arranged. Don't worry, though, I'm not upset about it."

He was annoyed and the ministers could somehow tell despite how cheerfully he was smiling. They didn't have a lot of confidence in regards to how this day would turn out. They had only stepped just inside the gate and they already wanted to step right back out of it.

"If I may say so, it isn't lost on us as to just how frightening supernaturals can be to humans who haven't encountered them all that much before." Ciel stated, trying to sympathise with the group. "We assure you, you will be completely safe. Supernaturals are just people, you see. They may look different and have different needs, but they're people all the same and if you leave them alone and let them go about their business while here, you'll be treated as you would be anywhere else."

"If you say so..." Mister Quincampoix cleared his throat before stepping forward. "Lead us on, then."

The trio huddled together somewhat as they ventured forward, with Quincampoix putting on his best pokerface, acting as though everything is normal in order to not offend his hosts, while the other two were a bit more visibly distressed. They walked down Main Street, past a few of the houses toward the gate and into the area with shops and such. People passed them by, saying "hello" to the demons with great enthusiasm, and giving a somewhat more reserved, yet very polite and somewhat warm greeting to the humans as well. A few folks stared at them from their upper floor apartment windows. The one that stood out to them the most was a man with a bull's head, leaning out the window with a cigarette in his mouth. They remembered him because when he put it out, his horns bumped against the walls of the window.

They were showed the Town Welfare Center and were surprised that there was such an official-looking government building in the middle of this place, seemingly run by supernaturals. The woman at the front desk was light purple and had horns. She and the man next to her greeted them and gave them the short spiel about the sort of things they do there. At first, the ministers wondered if this was one of the humans that lived in this town, only to find out that the man was in fact a warlock. The humans were in the offices down the hall. They met one—Daniel Westley, who was clearly and very painfully human, with a very tacky football-themed necktie.

They were showed the craft shop, the tailor's/clothes shop, the bakery, and the like, meeting more and more interesting supernaturals as they carried on. Kristopherson Miles was big and muscular like one would expect of a stereotypical werewolf, but he was a very flamboyant man as well, wearing designer heels as he passionately showed the ministers around his shop and explained exactly what it was that he did there and why it was important. Police Chief Sybil gave them a brief tour of the police station and they ate bread at the bakery. It wasn't as good as the bread back at home, but it was still impressive that it was able to exist there at all.

The trio even met an architect of all things!-A blue fellow by the name of Logan. He was guiding a few construction workers through a renovation of a building. Men and women with goat legs, pointed ears, horns, or skin of practically every hue was at work, there, all wearing proper equipment, more or less. Sadly, it was difficult to find hardhats of certain sizes and impossible to get some that accommodated for horns.

"Right now, we're turning this big building into a theatre." Logan said as he pointed to the blueprints on the makeshift table in front of him, showing the ministers. "The stage is going to be right here and we're going to start installing some seating after we get the floor all fixed up."

"Are supernaturals partial to plays?" questioned Mister Qincampoix, believing the man wholeheartedly, but mostly worrying about the expense that replicating such a place would cause.

"Not just plays, but movies, too." the incubus replied, pointing above the stage and then behind them. "We're going to install a projector and a projector screen, too. Basically, here in Gehenna, the idea is to make more jobs and more things for people to spend money on to keep money circulating. At least, that's how Jim explained it."

"Right, the idea is to keep there from being a massive wealth disparity in the city." Jim replied. "If no one spends money, it just kind of collects and never circulates. In addition, while jobs are growing in Gehenna, there's still a good portion of the population that remains unemployed and if things stay that way, there will be a massive gap between 'rich' and 'poor' in the city. So, in an effort to keep things level, we've put money into starting local businesses in order to kill two birds with one stone. Encouraging arts and entertainment is one way to do that! Basically, the more self sufficient we can make the place, the cheaper it will be in the long run."

So the demons were economically-minded as well. At this point, the group had grown tired of being surprised and instead merely accepted that fact. It was logical, after all. There was no way that Jim could put together an entire city without worrying about finances, after all and the prospect of not having to pay millions to maintain a city indefinitely was very appealing to the ministers.

The entire town was pleasing, for that matter. It wasn't at all the cesspool of murder and degeneracy that one might immediately assume, had one gone into exploring the place after consuming a steady diet of media in which supernatural beings are all murderous monsters. The people were kind, courteous, and well-behaved. Even the demons were. They were suspiciously well-behaved. After everything they've seen, however, Mister Quincampoix and Missus Devreaux were willing to relent somewhat and trust HELLSING—but only just. Demons are very serious business, after all. Meddling with them too closely was never a good idea, still. Their suspicions did make the Phantomhives a bit uncomfortable, as they knew that they were dangerous, but only in certain aspects of their professional lives. The rest of the time, they were essentially ordinary people. Ciel, in particular, was uncomfortable, as he he could actually feel Miss Munier staring at him when she mistakenly thought that he wouldn't notice.

His behaviour was perfectly cordial. He mostly stayed quiet, however, allowing his husband to give the tour, only chiming in when he felt it was appropriate. It was somewhat ominous how he hung back off to the side, however, watching the group with a serious look on his face, but that could have just been the ministers' biases. The man's face softened when anyone called out to him or addressed him directly, so perhaps he was merely focusing on the conversation.

With his dark suit and eyepatch, however, he looked like a bouncer as he stood by the door to the bookstore with his hands folded together. The bookstore was one of Gehenna's crown jewels, as it contained perhaps the largest collection of books written by supernatural beings in the world. As the ministers browsed the shelves, they found poetry, mysteries, romances, how-to books, and even fantasy books written by bonafide elves. It was a place that always got visitors excited, as it was the discovery of a new world and a new culture. Missus Devreux very excitedly browsed the books and debated very seriously with herself while trying to decide which ones to bring home. Mister Quincampoix wasn't as excited as he was the craft shop, but he still decided it could be beneficial to pick out a few in order to understand supernaturals when negotiating. Jim pointed him out to a few important officers—in particular, Girasol Frescobaldi—and he seemed satisfied with that. Miss Munier quite frankly had trouble paying attention. She pretended to look at books, but her skin crawled as she felt Ciel watching her and her mind raced. She has matters of national security to worry about and was trying to figure out exactly what it was that she was up against. It was difficult to tell, however, as she knew very little about supernaturals and their affairs.

First thing's first: she needed information on Earl Ciel Phantomhive. She knew that was the Earl Phantomhive and that he had been since the late 1800s. He was somewhat of a legend at HELLSING, it seemed. The man's track record was understandably extensive, given how long he had served his country. But, as for the specifics of his origin and the people he associated with, she did not know and did not know who to ask. In fact, it may not be advisable for her to ask at all. Taking interest in a specific agent like this may cause suspicion. It could be passed off as an attempt to find out what it took to find agents like him, but if HELLSING discovered the copycat, relations between England and France could be in trouble. She needed to find out who this man was and why he was adopting the appearance of the Phantomhive. Then, she needed to find out how to get rid of him. But how? He trained her troops. He was in charge in her absence. Did her staff even know how to kill demons? Could demons even be killed? She didn't know, but time was of the essence.

Glazed, her eyes looked in the direction of the books as she plotted her next move, but as she delved deeper into thought, her motion stopped. Munier stood completely still, now, looking in the direction of a book. Her strange behaviour did not go unnoticed, however. With a whisper to Jim, Ciel directed the menace in her direction, prompting him to approach her.

"_Supernatural Historia: The History of Supernaturals in Enland_, huh?" Jim noted, reaching out and picking up the book in front of her. "'Volume one, First edition'… You know, Mister Westley's sister helped work on this. The rest of it was written by a renowned supernatural writer. It's good. If you want to know about supernaturals over here, this is a great place to start. And I'm not just saying that because there's a blurb on me in it, either!"

He smiled warmly, masking his suspicion in hopes of lowering her guard. It was sweet in the way that only Jim could achieve, yet anyone who knew him well could see through the farce. Ciel could tell that he was looking at her as a cat would a bird with a broken wing, just daring her to make some sort of mistake. The woman looked at him and then looked at the book, realising that it could be just where she needed to start.

"You're in here?" she asked, taking the book from the man's hand and flipping through it. If he was telling the truth, there could be information on his husband as well—maybe even about her own bluenette, too.

There was a surprising amount of history that was documented, although it didn't compare to that of humans. Sure enough, the menace was there, with a heavily abridged version of his personal history, omitting details that he would rather the general public not know at this time. Ciel, of course, got similar treatment, the woman found. There was information that he became Earl at the age of ten before his first encounter with the menace turned him into a demon. Miss Munier understood now as to why his French was so perfect. He lived there until the forties, only returning after realigning himself with Britain from time to time to aid resistance efforts. Since then, he had gone on many adventures—in total, far too many to count. His history, despite not being the favourite Phantomhive of Gehenna was more extensive. That pleased the minister, but she didn't have time to read it all on the spot. She was still under the watchful eyes of the Phantomhive family, after all. In the end, she decided to buy the book, and dwelled on its potential contents for the remainder of the trip. The Phantomhives themselves, however, were still suspicious of her.

Eventually, their time together came to a close. There were no incidents and everyone seemed alright with the way things turned out. As far as Jim was concerned, the mission was a success and since he was satisfied with the results, so was his husband. But as the demons sat in their car, watching as the ministers were boarding their own vehicle to be taken back to their lodgings, they discussed their thoughts on Miss Munier. Something was off about her, but they couldn't tell what. She had been on edge ever since the duo arrived—it was expected, to some extent, given the fact that she was human in a strange, supernatural land, but ordinarily, those who went on tour around the city eventually relaxed. She, however, did not. She seemed cautious of the demons and of Ciel, in particular. Her posture was stiff and she seemed to have something weighing heavily on her mind. Basically, she had a guilty look about her that neither of the demons liked and they wanted to know why.

"Think she's up to no good?" Jim questioned, leaning back in his seat.

"Hard to say… I can think of about thirty different reasons as to what that could be about." Ciel replied. "How did she react when you addressed her in the bookshop?"

"Dodgy. Like she wanted me gone. She did buy that book, though. She immediately found the page with information about me on it after I told her I was in it. She did it right in front of me, too. If you want to snoop because you're suspicious of me, at least have the decency to do it in private."

"Do you think she's interested in you in some capacity?"

"No. She turned the page after scanning it a bit before trying to find yours. Could be both of us."

"Let's run the fact that we're suspicious by Integra. Intuition doesn't count as evidence, but it would be a mistake to ignore it."

"Agreed. We can go now, if you want."

"Lets."

Munier, however, had her own things to do. On the ride back to her hotel room, she had to make an important choice and she had to make it quickly. If she didn't, her reputation would be at stake. Missus Devreaux and Mister Quincampoix were in the car with her. They were easily within reach and she doubted that the driver spoke French. She could have told them right then and there what she knew—that a demon was in their midst and that he bore uncanny resemblance to the Earl Phantomhive. What exactly that meant, she didn't know, but because the Earl didn't mention siblings in that very brief moment that he mentioned family, she didn't think that they were related in that way. Furthermore, she highly doubted that HELLSING would allow one of their demons to travel the world and tag along with random militias. Either they didn't know, or they didn't want ORSAP to know. Munier was determined to find out.

She chose not to tell her compatriots about the situation right then. She wanted to read the relevant passages of the book in her hands first in order to check if any relations were mentioned. Thus, when she returned to her room, she removed the shoes that she had walked in all day and sat on her bed with the tome, cracking it open and peering inside. She was able to read much more than she was at the store.

The Phantomhive family once consisted of four, it seemed: One father, one mother, a son, and a dog. There was mention of a dog, but no brother. That was all she needed to confirm that the situation was indeed suspicious, but she read on. She read about how there was a fire and how Ciel summoned a demon and became Earl at the age of ten. She read about his encounter with the menace and how he became a demon. She read about the war. She read about Gehenna. She read about a few noteworthy missions. She read it all. The most scandalous bit in there was about how he was particularly vicious before resurrecting Jim and eventually settling down. He was vicious as a demon and cold as a human being. And yet, no mention of "Emil Stark," "Emil Phantomhive," or even references to a sibling. The man running her operation was a man of mystery and she needed to solve things fast.

While she was refraining from alerting the others until she had more to work with, she didn't just sit there. Naturally, she got on the phone with people until she found the right person to do what she needed to do, all while being obtuse as to what exactly she needed. Johnathan was high ranking in their organisation, after all. She couldn't let him know that she was on to him.

She held her phone against her ear and listened to it ring. It was still a bit early, so it took a moment for anyone to pick up. The operative in question was only active at night. Eventually, however, she received a very tired "hello" from the other end of the line.

"_Hello, is this Mister Chaput?_" she questioned. "_I __have a mission for you__._"

* * *

**A/N: Hello~! Sorry, I'm late with this! My teachers, for whatever reason, felt that it was appropriate to smack me in the face with two tests in the third week of school. Anyway, I lived, so here's the new chapter.**

**very thank for ur patience god bless uwu**

**anyway, i don't have a lot else to say?**

**until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	51. Bit Players Playing Bit Parts

"Jimmy, you can't bug a foreign official's hotel room. That is very, very, illegal and very, very, bad if you get caught." The bluenette looked at his spouse skeptically, despite knowing that his beau was joking. At least, he hoped he was.

"I guess… But how are we supposed to figure out what Munier's so twitchy about? Send a few goons to shadow her?"

"Actually, yes. That's exactly what HELLSING is doing."

"So stalking is fine? What a strange place to draw the line, mister murder..."

"You jest, but that's sort of the way it is..." With a sigh, Ciel leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap and crossing one leg over his knee. "Things are more difficult when dealing with foreign parties… At the moment, we have no choice but to wait on Intel to tell us what they find out. Until then, it's business as usual. I can't say that I'm particularly thrilled about the prospect of you going over there to look at their progress."

"Scared the French are gonna kick my ass?"

"We don't have the same freedom there as we do here. If something happens, then you can't guarantee that you can get out of it with brute force."

With a chuckle, Jim stood up from his seat on the sofa and walked around to his beau's desk before playfully rubbing the underside of Ciel's chin with his finger. "You know, I love it when you worry about me."

"You would do the same." the bluenette retorted, not shying away from the gesture in the slightest. "I've asked Integra to allow me to go with you, but she said she needed some time to consider it, as it's a bit of a risk to have both of us out of the country at the same time. Transitional periods like this tend to be very precarious, so I don't blame her, but quite frankly, I'm debating on just getting on the ferry anyway." Pausing, Ciel looked up at his beau. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No. I think it's a good idea." Jim replied, sitting on the edge of the other man's desk. "I don't really feel comfortable going with just a human assistant. Sure, they can shoot, but what good is that when the French government says 'no shooting people?'"

"Who is going with you?"

"Just Roger, so far. From the SR department? You might not know him."

"Is he the one that's… y'know..."

"That's…?" the menace trailed off, trying to think of what his beau was referring to. After a moment, he figured it out, prompting him to nod after a look of realization crossed his face. "Oh, yeah. Probably. Just be nice, okay? Don't let your Tory-ness show."

"I'm not a Tory anymore and haven't been for several decades." protested the Watchdog. "I just didn't know the right word."

"'Transgender?'"

"Is that what the word is, now?" the Watchdog asked, taking a moment to pause and turn his attention away from his computer monitor. He reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a notebook before proceeding to flip through its pages. After finding the one he was looking for, he picked up a pen and made a note. "I wanted to say 'transvestite,' but I knew that was definitely wrong. I couldn't think of the right one."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that word's offensive, now."

"It is?" Ciel looked up at his beau for a moment with a confused look on his face. Then, he made another note. "I thought it just meant 'crossdresser...' Wait, don't tell me that's no good, either..."

"No, no, that one's fine, I think." the blonde replied as his beau read through his notes again. "Just don't call him that. That's something totally different."

"I'm aware. I'm not that out of touch. I swear, keeping track of this stuff is the hardest thing about immortality… You think you have it down and then younger people start saying things like 'yeet' and 'on fleek' like those are actual words that make sense. I really don't want to offend anyone or make a fool of myself in front of your coworkers. There's no need in that. Do tell me if I make a mistake."

"You're on your way to being a regular bleeding-heart liberal. Good show, darling!"

"Hm." Ciel grunted in response, turning his head back toward his desktop. Once more, his fingers danced on the keyboard as he carried on with his own, non-HELLSING-related work. In the middle of all of this, he still had a company to run, and he had already taken a lot of time off. Then again, as the owner, he really didn't have to do much. All he had to do was maintain control and make profit. As long as he could do that, he could take as much time off as he wanted.

"More interested in making money, huh?" inquired the menace.

"The mission hasn't officially started and I've done all of the prep work I can do for now. I just need to do a few things, first, and then I can play with you."

"What makes you think I want to play? I have work too, don't you know?"

"Does it involve planting your behind on my desk?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, billionaire-boy?" The menace let out a squeak as the bluenette wordlessly removed a hand from his keyboard and used it to lightly pinch the blonde's stomach.

"You know, the frequency with which you refer to my money makes me believe that you may actually like the fact that I have a lot of it." suggested the Earl.

"I mean, most people would, wouldn't they?"

"...Tory."

"I'll bludgeon you bloody, you bourgeois bastard."

"This bourgeois bastard is planning your trip to France, so be nice to me or I'll make you eat beef tartare."

With a scrunch of his face, the blonde shuddered. "I'd rather eat toasted lizard."

"Then you better be nice to me." the Watchdog playfully stated. "I've accumulated enough capital for us to live comfortably for a few more lifetimes, but I also have potential inflation and unforeseen expenses to worry about. We have Revy and then Luka's first homes to worry about, which won't even scratch the surface of that, and if we're going to add another child into the mix, we will also need to worry about them. While I don't necessarily intend to die and leave them an inheritance, I am a bit worried for the future."

"Worried that having a baby will cost you one of your billions?"

"No, I'd honestly prefer it if they went and made something of themselves on their own, but I do intend to support them throughout their life, which could get expensive, considering-"

"The immortality?" Jim concluded for his spouse, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes." Ciel nodded with a small sigh. "If I couldn't do that, I would consider myself a failure of a father. I've been finding myself worried about it after our talks at the cabin."

"Oh, darling..." The menace leaned down, grabbing the other man's chin with one hand and the back of his head with the other. He kissed the top of Ciel's head. "You'd be a great dad. It's cute that you're worried about it, but we haven't even agreed to start the whole… whatever-it-is-we're-gonna-do to get a baby, yet! You've got time."

"Precisely why I need to utilise it as much as possible."

"Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"I suppose that's just the sort of person I am. You know how I get when I have a goal in mind. I fully intend to create as nurturing of a home environment as I can when the time comes and there is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me."

With a snort, Jim kissed the bluenette's head again. "You are absolutely ridiculous, but very cute, so it's fine, I guess. Maybe you should focus on one kid at a time for now, though. Have you found Revy a place?"

"A while ago. It's a property I own on some of the land I'd typically rent out." Ciel informed. "It's a pretty nice plot of land. The house needs some work, though. The last tenant trashed the place years ago, and after throwing him in jail for vandalism, I never got around to having it fixed up. I need to call a contractor and have them take a look at it."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands, then. I, on the other hand, have a trip to inspect some very suspicious French folk's place to plan."

"I'll be sure to arrange some frog legs for you."

"Joke's on you, I've eaten roasted frog before, cyclops. It'd probably be better fried. Fry almost anything, and it should be pretty good."

"Did you punch them like you did that fish?"

"No, but I could always find a good-sized rock."

The demons went back and forth, engaging in banter and occasionally touching on relevant work-related topics. Unfortunately, until they received further information or orders from Headquarters, there wasn't much that they could do about the situation. Things were different, since they were dealing with foreign parties, so they couldn't go and do whatever they pleased to get intel faster. Everything seemed calm for the time being, but the Phantomhvies knew better than to trust that. For now, however, they were completely helpless as they hoped for the very best.

Others, however, were not so lucky as to live in ignorance. Minister Munier had been in contact with an agent at ORSAP, both to receive information one Johnathan and to give away orders. The only things that Mister Chaput was able to confirm however, was that the false Phantomhive was indeed a demon and that he really did bear a strong resemblance to Ciel. The only difference was that Johnathan was not scary to be around simply because he wore a frown and an eyepatch, but because there was something about him that was intrinsically malicious. That was the only way to describe it. There was something in the way that he existed in the world that others found unsettling.

Perhaps it was the fact that his smile never seemed genuine. It was as though there was nothing behind his eyes. They stared through the person he was looking in the direction of rather than looking at them and there was no emotion in them whenever he went through the motions of emoting. He was simply appearing human, rather than being human. While there were obvious efforts to conceal his inhumanity and there were even times where he was convincing, there was just something "off" about him that no one could quite place. Then, when he worked, he occasionally did things that the others found "immoral" or "excessive" without batting an eye. Poor Hugo still didn't want to talk to him after he killed the orc's acquaintance in the catacombs. Hugo could clearly feel. His eyes were sad and scared, at times, as his large frame tried to shrink itself whenever Johnathan was nearby.

"Hugo?" called out their mutual associate, a woman in her mid to late twenties by the name of Annie Perrott. She knocked on the orc's door while Chaput stood by. "Are you doing alright in there?"

There was a moment of silence as the two waited for Hugo to reply. They looked at one another, prompting Damien to offer a shrug. Then, the doorhandle began to turn. Hugo stood in the doorframe and sniffled once before sighing. "I'm okay." he said. "I'm sorry, I'm being silly. I'll try harder to stop..."

"You're not being silly." Annie replied, placing her hands on her hips. "You've lost someone who you were friendly with. It takes time to get over it, especially with the way that Emil went about it… That was uncalled for."

"I mean, he was right about him possibly warning our actual targets..." Damien chimed in, only to get a nasty look from the woman.

"It was immoral." she said. "You can't handle every situation like that. Where's the diplomacy?"

"What's 'diplomacy'?" questioned Hugo.

"It means taking everyone into consideration and coming to an agreement as to do next."

"Oh! You're really smart!" The orc seemed genuinely pleased with that, as his spirits seemed to lift just a little.

"Thank you! If you ever need to talk about what's bothering you, you can talk to us, okay? It'll help you feel better."

"Okay..." Hugo seemed less pleased with that. He didn't like talking about sad things because he didn't like feeling sad. He wasn't even sure if "sad" was the right word, but it was the word that came to mind. It was frightening, just how easy the demon threw one of Hugo's friend's lives away. It happened so fast. In one moment, Artus was there, and in the next, he was gone. His body stayed behind, but Artus wasn't there anymore. "Emil says I'm being stupid, though… I am being stupid, I think… I don't seem to understand anything at all."

"Emil's a bastard, so don't listen to him when it comes to that stuff. Just because he doesn't understand how you feel, doesn't make you stupid." Miss Perrott stated.

"I'd like to believe you, but I don't really know. I don't even know what happened to Artus!"

"He died, Hugo." Damien replied. "He's not here anymore. You saw it."

"Yes, but I don't know what happened to him afterwards." Placing his hands together and gesturing to the spot he was standing, Hugo did his best to explain. "He was 'here,' and now he's not. He's dead, but where did he go?"

"Well… I think the cleanup crew took him away, Hugo." Annie's eyebrows tilted upwards with concern as she patiently tried to understand her compatriot.

"No, no, not his body. Where did _he_ go? One minute, he was there, and then the next, Emil killed him and he wasn't anymore. I've seen a lot of bodies and a lot of things happen to them, but mostly, they just lay around. What happens to them when they die, though? Did Artus just… disappear? Is he not anywhere anymore? I don't like that idea."

This time, Annie and Damien did not have such a clear-cut answer. Damien looked to Annie, hoping that she would be able to figure out something. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing, and she seemed to have an alright trackrecord. The vampiress thought for a moment before simply saying: "No one really knows."

Damien and Hugo didn't seem very satisfied with that, with Damien looking over at her as if he was asking if she was nuts, and Hugo looking down sadly. Yet, she continued. "A lot of people think that they go to heaven if they were good and hell if they were bad people. Heaven is supposed to be a nice place where everyone is free from pain or suffering, and hell is the opposite. Of course, nobody has ever seen those places and come back, so no one really knows if they exist."

"Then why do they believe that?" Hugo questioned.

"Faith, I guess." Annie shrugged. "There's a church around the corner. You can go there and find out a lot about this stuff, if you're interested. I'm sure Damien will be fine with making you a glamour so you can go, if you think it'll help."

"Maybe… I don't know… I'll think about it… I just… I need some time to think. I don't really like Catholics, either..."

"That's fine! You don't have to do anything that you don't want to! I don't really go to church, myself, but… yeah." The woman flailed a bit at that, remembering that the Catholic church had not been kind to them. She made the mistake of thinking like a human instead of a supernatural, but that was in her nature as a vampire, to some extent. Immediately, she felt a pang of guilt at the possibility of having brought up more painful memories. "I'm sorry..." she said. "Uh… anyway, if you need us, you can talk to us, alright? You don't have to handle all of this by yourself."

The orc smiled a bit at that. His expression was soft—far softer than most people would wrongly assume an orc could make, with his lips working to move aroud his tusks. "Thank you." he said. "Sometimes, the surface world is scary, but you're not scary. I like this about this world." With that, he began to shut his door. "Bye-bye."

With that, Annie and Damien were left on their own, hoping that they did the right thing. The quiet was ruined, however, when Damien decided to open his mouth. "Nice work, 'maman.'"

"Don't call me that. It's gross." Miss Perrott replied before they both started to make their way back down the hall. "Do you think I got too preachy?" she asked. "I mean, I didn't mean to bring up religion, or anything, but I couldn't think of any other answer to that."

"Not big on the church either, huh?" the sorcerer asked.

"Hardly. I know there's demons, but I don't know if there's a God. Even if there was one, it's just 'what the fuck, man? Not cool.'"

"You handled that really well, though. I couldn't think of anything to say at all. You're really good at stuff like this."

"Well, I wanted to be an elementary school teacher, so that could be part of it."

"Really? You would've been good at it."

"Mm-hm." The conversation clearly died there, as the Damien observed that she really didn't want to talk about it. Being a recent college graduate himself, he felt that he could understand if things didn't pan out like she hoped. The woman rummaged around in the many pockets affixed to her person until she pulled out a package of cigarettes. "I need a smoke."

"You're not supposed to smoke in the building."

"Yeah, yeah… I'm headed outside." the woman said. "I just need to make sure I've got a lighter." Then, despite her hasty rummaging, all at once, she stopped and let out a sigh. "I need to give these things up..."

"Does smoking affect vampires?"

"Don't know. Don't really care. I'm just tired of it, is all. I don't need them. I know I don't need them. I've quit harder stuff, but it's like, 'this one's not so bad, so it's okay if it stays.' I just want to be done with it." Silence followed, as Damien didn't really know what to say to that. "Sorry for getting so heavy on you all of a sudden. I'm just… mad."

"Mad at what? Emil?"

"Emil, fucking Rigaud, the cigarettes, the vampirism, the whole… situation I'm in right now. My problems have lessened a little bit, but it still feels like some things are the same. I'm grateful that I'm here. I really am. I like that I can do at least somewhat vaguely honest work and can feed myself and my family. There's a lot of freedom in that. There's so much compared to before. I can even go outside in the sun because I know you! It's just that things shouldn't have ever have turned out the way they have in the first place."

That was hard to respond to, but Damien felt like he ought to. "I'm sorry if I brought something up..."

"No, no, you haven't. Not really, anyway. Everything's still a bit fresh, y'know?"

"Yeah… I think I might, but also… not really." Chaput replied. "I'm here a little bit by choice, so I find it hard to say I really understand. For me, I'm just glad that I don't have to be lied to anymore about what I am. I'm a sorcerer and I'm allowed to be a sorcerer. It's something I can be proud of and not something I have to hide in order to keep my family safe. Honestly, I'm kind of hoping we can get some more sorcerers to sign up so that I can learn more magic."

"Your parents won't teach you?"

"They only taught me how not to blow things up on accident. Right now, they're still afraid that they'll be killed, so we're not talking at the moment." Damien said, turning to the woman as they walked side by side. "They even took me out of school when I was little because they were scared someone would find out. The first few weeks of college were hell because of that."

"Sheltering parents are the worst. Mine threatened to take me out of school because I talked to a girl who had a nose piercing. She was nice, but I wasn't allowed to be friends with her."

"Right?! I had my computer taken away because I talked to people online about magic! They were humans who were interested in the fake kind, but still!"

"I take it they're not big fans of Harry Potter, either?"

"Yep. I still don't know anything about it."

"If you want to watch it, I could let you borrow it. I have the full set at my place." Annie replied, before looking up as a thought clicked into place in her brain. "Hugo's probably never seen it, either… I could invite him over and we could make a thing of seeing it."

"Really?" the man questioned, raising his brows. "That wouldn't be a problem, would it? What about Anais?"

"If it's during the day, she'll be at school, so it'll be alright. Just te-" Annie cut herself off as she looked directly in front of her and stopped dead in her tracks. She furrowed her thick eyebrows as she gave Rigaud an icy glare.

The older vampire didn't say anything to her, but just his smile was enough to make her agitated. In a way, it was similar to Johnathan's—hitting most of the points to make it a "kind" expression, but with something about it that she couldn't quite place that made it seem fake. Because it seemed fake, she knew she couldn't trust it, and because she could not trust it, she felt lied to, and because she felt lied to, she felt pissed off. Still, she needed to finish her thought.

"Text me when you're free, later." she said, facing Damien again. "See you later."

Her eyes met with Rigaud's briefly in a rather nasty glare. The fact that the other vampire only smiled sweetly back at her made her even more irritated. Thus, she left in a huff, leaving Damien alone to face Doctor Rigaud on his own.

"Hello, Doctor." the warlock greeted, capturing Pierre's attention away from the woman.

"Ah, hello, Damien! How are you this evening?" the professor questioned. "I heard that Hugo is not feeling too terribly well, still. I take it that you and Miss Perrott had a word with him, already?"

"Yeah, he seems to be getting better. He just needs some time to process everything, I think."

"Well, overcoming a death of friend is always rough. I was wondering if he needed to talk to anyone about it. Like the meaning of life, death is another one of my areas of expertise when it comes to philosophical thought. I thought it might bring him comfort."

"He says he wants to be left alone for now." Damien replied, hoping that it would deter the older man from persisting. He knew that Hugo didn't have the patience to hear Rigaud's ramblings on an ordinary day, so there was no reason to test his patience or make him feel worse by making him listen to the professor's pointless pontificating. "I think that might be too much for him at the moment."

"That's true, I suppose. He's a bit simple, so he might not understand, anyway." the doctor supposed, much to the warlock's chargin. While Hugo wasn't the most "educated" of individuals, nor was he particularly what Damien would consider a "friend," that was still uncalled for.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No, I just wanted to talk, I suppose. There isn't a lot of opportunity for intelligent conversation around here, it seems. Annie hates me for some reason, Hugo is… Hugo, and the rest of the mercenaries are too focused on earning their next paycheck to think about much else. Then again… aren't we all a slave to life's necessities?"

"You're trying to bait me into talking about philosophy, aren't you? It's not going to work. I'm not a slave to anything. I chose to be here so I can learn magic."

"Ah, but you are a slave to the pursuit of knowledge!" Doctor Rigaud declared, prompting the younger man to roll his eyes at him. "You started out not knowing anything about who and what you are. You found your false humanity to be a burden, so you cast it aside, but what are you, now? You aren't human, yes, but you aren't quite a sorcerer, are you?"

"I am a sorcerer. Don't be stupid. I was born a sorcerer, so I'm a sorcerer. It's that simple."

"Ah, but is that the only thing? You lack the culture and the know-how, so now, you've signed away your name to the government of all things in order to seek those pieces of yourself that you clearly lack. You're obsessed and that is a weakness." As Pierre spoke, Damien glared at him. The feeling of having the upperhand made the vampire's chest swell and a smirk to appear on his face. "But then again, none of us are any better than the other. Annie was a slave to drugs, but she has since traded it for money. Hugo was a prisoner of the monster hunters, having to live hidden in the catacombs, but now he has signed himself away to the very same sort that did that to him. Even I am a constant slave to my own pleasures."

"It's rude to gossip about your coworkers and you're annoying me, so I'm going to go, now." the warlock huffed, pushing past the vampire as he made his way down the hall, but Rigaud pulled him back again as he thought aloud, trapping Damien once again in his half-baked, intellectual pursuits.

"Maybe so, but there also may be fault in my theory, though..." the Doctor continued. "I haven't been able to put our valiant leader, Mister Stark, into any kind of category, yet. His goal, as of currently, has proven elusive, or perhaps even nonexistent. He doesn't seem interested in money and he runs things like an ordinary bureaucracy—dry and stale, so 'power' doesn't seem quite right. Don't you find that interesting?"

"Not really." Damien replied, remembering his mission. His stomach did a flip at the mentioning of the demon, prompting him to wonder if perhaps Rigaud had found out what Miss Munier asked of him. If so, he realised that he may in fact be the worst spy ever. Still, it was a good opportunity for him to hear about other people's observations. "I don't really care, as long as the job gets done. I'm just glad that I don't have to do it."

"Ah, but what about the other night in the catacombs?" Rigaud questioned, putting his arm around the younger man as they walked, causing Damien to shrink a little bit. "You saw how he killed that ogre, didn't you? He killed him without any sort of remorse, even though he was already walking away! I wonder if perhaps his mask slipped a bit in that moment. What other secrets do you think he holds, hm?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. Get off me." The warlock tried to shove the other man away, finding it difficult, with the vampire's superior strength stopping him. Rigaud chose to release him after a moment, however, chuckling as he did so. "Why don't you focus on your work instead of spouting pseudo-intellectual, masturbatory, bullshit?"

"I have no mission, so I'm on standby for now. I need a way to pass the time. There's no one to have a drink with and the women here are all dobermans, so I'm finding myself incredibly bored at the moment. If you can't meet me in intellectual conversation, so be it, I suppose. Not everyone is interested in having interest in philosophy."

"That's because it's good for nothing but thinking for the sake of thinking. Who cares about thoughts you can't even use? Worse, if you keep pondering about your colleagues to other colleagues, you'll never find any friends at all. Nobody likes a gossip, Doctor."

"Clearly. What did Annie tell you about me? Does it not count when your friends do it?"

"We aren't friends, and she avoids the subject."

"I've never met her before coming here. I don't know what I did to upset her."

"Who knows?" Damien fibbed, wanting to end the conversation as quickly and painlessly as possible. "Best not to dwell on it, I suppose. Just try to be nice. I'll see you around."

The warlock practically ran away from the vampire in that moment, no longer wanting to hear about his "wise" ramblings or to jeopardise his mission. If he asked too many questions, others might get suspicious, which would be particularly troubling if Rigaud caught on. The vampire was nosy and couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his life if he thought he could impress someone with his intelligence.

Damien made his escape, turning down the winding halls, his shoes tapping violently against the linoleum tile. He passed benches and potted plants that lined the hallways, honeybee motifs and soldiers lazing about, too. Then, he rounded a corner perhaps too quickly and too little thought, as he narrowly avoided careening into another person. The only reason he did so was because they had the reflexes and strength to place a hand on his chest and push him backward. The poor warlock landed right on his bottom, startled by the sudden violence.

He supposed that he shouldn't find the sight of the perpetrator all that surprising, but he still did. It was a girl who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, with a British flag patch sewn onto her uniform. Honeycutt members typically did wear flags to indicate that they didn't speak French, but she wasn't American, like the typical soldier, nor did she appear to be an actual member of the Honeycutt Mercenary Company, as she didn't have the honeybee sewn onto her shirt, either. Her age was unusual, but not unheard of. Damien couldn't tell if she was human or not, but if she wasn't, she could be hundreds of years old, for all he knew. With the unusual markings or lack thereof on her uniform, the warlock concluded that she was one of Johnathan's associates. They weren't of Honeycutt, yet they were brought to ORSAP by him. They were "unusual," to say the least, but perhaps that was simply because they kept to themselves.

Her eyes were very tired with dark bags underneath them, but her brown hair was still pulled back into a tight, tidy, bun. There seemed to be some distance between her gaze and the situation at hand, yet she snapped out of it, seeming to regain conscious as she saw Damien on the floor. Stepping out of her defensive stance, she leaned down a bit, holding out a hand to the man.

"Sorry." she said in English. "Uh… _'pardon?'_" Her attempt at an accent was bad, but she had the spirit.

"It's okay." Then again, Damien's English accent was questionable as well. Taking her hand, he almost fell over as the woman lifted him up without any need for help on his part. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Neither was I. I didn't mean to push you over, but you scared me, I guess." Letting go of the man's hand, she introduced herself. "I'm Brittany, by the way."

* * *

**A/N: I'm really sorry about how late this is! Last week, I had 536726452 assignments all given to me at the same time and I had to prioritise that. It really sucked because this chapter was almost done!**

**I could've made it longer, but it's three in the morning and death is upon me.**

**I totally forgot Brittany's last name... Did she even have one? I have no idea... **

**I totally had stuff to talk about at the end, here... it's been so long that I forgot?**

**I think mostly that I wanted to talk about Johnathan and his weird signs of inhumanity. I've hammered it in pretty heavily, but watch out for that, because as you know, I'm very interested in things that make people "human." Compare him to Ciel, in particular.**

**Ah... I wish I could phrase that more intelligently... My brain isn't working quite right, I'm so tired.**

**Night night**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	52. Do You Expect Me To Talk?

Damien Chaput was a sorcerer under a lot of stress. He had just graduated from university, got a job with a government-funded private military company in order to learn about magic and pay his bills, his parents refuse to speak to him for doing so, and now, he has a secret mission from one of the heads of the organisation in order to spy on a high-ranking member of the group. The person he was sent to gather information on just so happened to be the most dangerous person at the organisation. Damien had seen Johnathan kill in cold blood, even when it wasn't necessary for him to do so, so if he were caught, the warlock didn't even want to imagine the consequences.

Yet, what choice did he have? He was already in far too deep and was left with no other option but to keep digging. Luckily, he ran into someone who associated with Johnathan before he joined Honeycutt. It became abundantly clearer to Damien that he didn't know anything about "Emil Stark." He knew that he was a demon. He knew that he was scary, deadly, and cold. Other than that, who was he? Who was "Emil Stark?" Damien was given the story about how Johnathan helped Honeycutt overthrow the rebels in the civil war over in Namara, but who was he before that? He hoped to find his answer when talking to Brittany. So, he offered to buy her lunch.

Despite the fact that neither of them had spoke before, they both agreed that it was for the best to at least know who the supernaturals of ORSAP were and to be on their good sides. Plus, Brittany was more than happy to accept a free lunch, but she, too, was on her guard. She could tell that this man was older than her. She knew that it was indeed a bit strange for a man his age to ask to buy lunch for a woman of hers. While technically, she was seventeen, and had been an "adult" for almost a year already, she was more than aware of the implications.

You see, although Brittany was once a girl who would have happily gone along with things without a second thought, flattered by the attention she was receiving, that was no longer the case. The sparkle had gone from her eyes, now. She was no longer idealistic, no longer naive, and she no longer wanted to entertain such flights of fancy, now knowing that there are consequences to everything in the world. She sat across from Damien in the canteen, quietly eating while watching him like a hawk, even if she wasn't necessarily doing it with her eyes.

"How have you been liking Paris?" questioned the warlock, taking to his own plate. "I hear it's rainier in England."

"It is. The weather's nicer, for sure." the young woman replied. "I haven't really been able to go out and do a lot, though. The language barrier makes things tough. Sometimes, if I just point, I can get by."

"Isn't that tough at like, the supermarket, though?"

"Not really. Punching things into Google translate usually does it. It's just stressful when there's like, a line or something. I'm always convinced the people behind me are talking about me for taking so long at the counter! What about you? How'd you get so good at English?"

"I took a few classes in college. Nothing special, really. My parents really wanted me to move to England for a while. They've even talked about going themselves, to escape Iscariot."

"Well, with them gone and us handling things, they won't have to."

"I guess, but they still don't trust it. They didn't want me to join up at all. What about your parents?"

"They don't know I'm here." Brittany casually said, bringing her fork to her lips. "They probably think I'm dead or something. I haven't talked to them in about a year." She looked up from her food and watched as the man sitting across from her opened and closed his mouth, wanting to ask, wanting to console, and knowing that it was none of his business.

"I'm mostly okay with it now, if you're wondering." the girl continued. "It was my own fault. I got bitten on purpose because I was a dumb teenager who wanted to have control over something in my life. I could've gone back to them if I wanted to. I just didn't. End of. Now, I can't go back anymore. There's no use being upset about it."

"I'm… sorry?" Damien wasn't asking for clarification. He was asking if it was alright of him to be apologetic. "Sorry." he said with more conviction. "I forgot that a lot of supernaturals have some… baggage? Is that the word? Everyone seems to have something in their past. I sort of forget, sometimes. My bad."

"Don't be sorry. It's not like you don't have your own shit too. That shit with your parents? Hate to break it to you, but you've got a tragic backstory, too. You just keep undermining it because it 'doesn't seem that bad' to you. Welcome to the club."

Damien felt bad for trying to get information out of her after that. Still, he did find that a bit validating. "I miss them, sometimes." he said, yet the woman only shrugged.

"You'll get used to it. You've just got to learn how to fend for yourself."

"That's a bit weird, coming from you. No offense, but you look sixteen."

"I'm seventeen, and I've seen some shit you wouldn't believe." the girl replied a bit defensively. She wasn't like this man. She was different. She had seen things that he wouldn't believe, and gone through things that were far worse than simply being separated from her parents. "I fought in a war, you know. We were trying to overthrow the crown so that supernaturals could be on top of things, but now I know that that was a stupid idea."

"What happened?"

"What do you think happened? The humans slaughtered us." Brittany stated. She looked at Damien, but her eyes didn't seem to see him. It wasn't like Johnathan, however. She was seeing something, just not Damien. "We were stupid, thinking that we could go against the humans. A lot of us who joined up from the supernatural cities were young, we wanted be apart of something, and hadn't grown out of ideas that we were invincible. A few of us who survived went back to the cities and tried to start over, but I knew I couldn't do that. Too many people knew my face. I didn't want to go back and live the rest of my life as a traitor. That's why I'm here with the others Jo—Emil rounded up."

"Jesus..." the warlock said. That was a lot to take in. Perhaps his problems really were small after all. Still, he tried to stay focused. He caught the girl's stuttering of the demon's name. He didn't know what "Jo" was, but knew that if he pressed right then, she may get suspicious of him. "And just like that, you're a professional soldier? England and then Namara, and now France?"

"No, I've never been to Namara. He went there by himself." the girl clarified. "Emil brought us over here, set us up a place to live, somehow, and told us to wait. We had no idea where he went until he came back with Honeycutt. We weren't allowed to try and contact him at all unless Caesar died—you don't know him. He was in the hospital. I don't know if he still is, but it's not my business anymore."

"Huh..." Damien paused to think about that. It was a lot of information at once. The name "Caesar" didn't sound familiar, but if Mister Stark wanted an eye kept on him, he must be important. What would have happened if Brittany told him Caesar died? Would he have immediately come back? He seemed to be an important piece to whatever it was that Johnathan was plotting, yet Damien had never heard of him. He knew that he needed to ask around and see if anyone knew anything. "I only get sent out on regular missions. Must've been nice, being on standby..."

The man leaned over with his elbow on the table between them and his chin resting in his palm. He looked off to the side as he tried to imagine it, only to realise that Brittany had gone quiet. Looking up at her, he saw the far off look in her eyes again. "Brittany?"

"No… It wasn't easy..." she said, but her eyes did not blink, nor did she move. "I was stuck in the same house with a bunch of strangers. None of us had any directions. We didn't have any idea when he'd be back. He didn't contact us at all, the whole time. We were trapped in a foreign country, none of us spoke French, and we had no idea just how long we would be able to stay there until someone found us or the rent stopped being paid and we were forced out onto the streets. Combat is better. You can control the situation, at least."

"What happened after that?" Damien asked. "Did he ever call you?"

"No. He just… showed up at the door one day and told us that Caesar died. After that, he told us we were becoming mercenaries, and here we are. That's how it happened." Pausing, the woman lowered her utensils and let out a sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to unload everything on you. It's just that nobody ever talks about it. It's kind of frustrating."

"It's okay. I was curious. Everyone around here has interesting stories. A lot of the time, though, they aren't fun at all. Sometimes, though, it's just people who are kind of horrible..."

"Yeah, a lot of our mercenaries are people who were too nutty for the military or the police, so they thought they'd make money by shooting people another way. There's a few tragic backstories in the bunch, though. Most of us are supernaturals, though."

"That's the trend with us, too… I hope that won't be the case one day, but for now, it's the norm."

The conversation naturally died out after that. Damien paid for the food and bidded the woman farewell. He headed off to sift through his findings in order to get his story straight before reporting it to Miss Munier, leaving Brittany alone to carry on with her own day. She watched the man walk away for a while before looking down at her plate in order to finish her food. She didn't lift her head until she heard the sound of the chair in front of her moving again and saw a shadow move across the table. Thinking that Damien had forgotten something, she looked up, seeing a different man entirely. Brittany's stomach dropped.

"Hi, there." Johnathan greeted, smiling sweetly at her while resting his chin in his palm. All the woman could do was stare back at him with eyes the size of saucers. While she didn't know exactly what the demon wanted, she realised in an instant that her talking to Damien about him was the reason why he wanted to talk to her. It didn't seem like anything she told the warlock was a secret, but with Johnathan, one never knew. "Having a nice lunch, Brittany?"

"Yeah..." Brittany meekly replied, looking down at her plate again. This time, however, she did not eat. She simply sat there, her body completely frozen. Her muscles tensed as she felt the urge to run away, yet she knew that she couldn't. Running would only make her look even more guilty of something.

"That's nice." the demon said. "I, myself, don't really eat lunch. I don't eat anything, really. It's like my sense of taste has shriveled up. Food doesn't taste like anything at all… Then again, it's not really the sort of thing my kind is meant to be eating."

That was a threat. He didn't say it like it was a threat, but that was a threat. Brittany knew it. It was a bad idea to ignore any little comment the demon made, no matter how innocuous it may seem. People had died by thinking he was simply being friendly. Still, she didn't move. She didn't even dare to speak. Even if she thought of something to do or say, she was completely at the demon's mercy. Despite this, he still smiled at her, going through the motions of appearing friendly.

"So..." he began, tilting his head. "What did you talk to Damien about?"

Unaware of Brittany's plight, however, Damien pressed onward, having already given some thought as to how he was going to contact Miss Munier. He had his personal cellphone, of course, but he couldn't contact her while at headquarters. It was already dangerous enough as it is, having talked to Brittany so publicly. Thus, he decided to go outside and walk a little ways down the street. Cars drove by him, but none of them moved slowly enough for him to think that they were following him. Still, he paused for a moment, checking his surroundings before ducking down a narrow footpath. It was dimly lit, but no one was around, so he felt safe enough to give it a shot. Still, he anxiously shifted his weight on his feet as he listened to the dial tone. It seemed to ring for an eternity. Then, the sound of the woman picking up sounded from the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Miss Munier!" the man enthusiastically said, sighing in relief. "I have information on the 'Stark' situation..."

"That was fast..." Miss Munier, herself, was comfortably in her hotel room, winding down for the evening while staring at her suitcase. "Report."

Damien stumbled over his words as he did his best to relay what he had learned from Brittany. He spoke with lightning speed, causing the minister to ask him to slow down a few times, but he was completely on edge, given the situation. He was a spy, now, and he was alone in the dark in this dirty, narrow, walkway. He constantly looked over his shoulder, but this was a matter of great importance.

He told the woman about Brittany and how she and some of the other supernaturals that Johnathan acquired arrived in France. He told her about Caesar, although he did say that he didn't know how that was. He told her about the bid to overthrow the British monarchy, and how the demon that they had unwittingly left in charge of things was somehow involved. Munier didn't have to know all of the details for a switch to be flipped in her mind. That was why he ended up abroad and that was why he was so secretive about his origins. She now had greater reason to suspect that the demon was using an alias, as Brittany had flubbed the name "Emil Stark" and almost said "Johnathan." This was bad. This was beyond bad. All of this time, she and the other ministers had left this creature in charge of their organisation, giving him practically unsupervised access to their resources, meaning that he could be doing God knows what with them. Munier's stomach dropped and her body felt more and more numb with each possibility that ran through her head.

"I'm supposed to leave the day after tomorrow, but I'm going to leave right away." she said, standing up. Rapidly, she began to throw her belongings into her suitcase as she held her cellphone against her ear. "Keep an eye on things until I get there. I'm going to put a stop to this!"

She knew she should have done this earlier. She knew that things had gotten out of hand, by now. But still, the mistake was made and it could cost them all dearly. Munier had no idea how she was going to tell her fellow ministers. She debated whether or not she should tell them at all. If she could just take care of it right now, then it would be as though nothing had ever happened. Yet, if it were discovered that she didn't warn the others and hid information that could possibly affect national security, the consequences would be dire, for her. She would definitely lose her job and never be allowed to hold public office again. She might even face jail time.

"Just… Stay safe and act normal." Munier instructed, finally stopping her rapid movement. "I'll take care of it." She didn't wait for Damien to reply. She hung up and threw the phone on her bed and stared at it for a moment. Then, she raised her hands and covered her face.

Her underling, however, was left on his own. "Hello?" he asked, listening to the monotone note of the line going dead. "Miss Munier?" Pulling the device away from his ear, he looked at it for a moment before hanging up. That was that, he supposed. Everything was out of his hands, now.

Fiddling with the device for a moment, he turned on its flashlight and shined it on his pathway out of the narrow passage. Turning around, the light shined on the wall before he lowered it to the ground. He could see the exit, as the street was lit, but for that reason, he could also see that he wasn't alone. At the end of the exit stood a figure. Their features were concealed by darkness, save for a pair of glowing, red, eyes staring back at the warlock.

"Who's there?" Damien demanded, slowly lowering his free hand to grasp the handle of the wand sheathed at his hip. True, he had a plethora of magical gemstones on his hands, his ears, and around his neck, but glowing, red, eyes were never a good sign. Immediately, he understood what sort of danger he was in. Raising his light, Damien saw the figure's eyes squint as the light reflected off of their glasses. Doctor Rigaud raised a hand, shielding himself.

"Is there a brightness setting on that thing?" the doctor asked, prompting Damien to lower the light slightly, just so it wasn't in Pierre's eyes.

"Sorry. You scared me."

"Pretty bad, too, it seems. You're still grabbing your wand."

Damien was very reluctant to let go, but knew it was suspicious to seem like his guard was still up, so he dropped his hand to his side. "What are you doing out here? On a mission?"

"Something like that." Rigaud replied, stepping a bit closer. "Mister Stark wants you back at headquarters. He sent me to come get you. A few people said they saw you go this way, so I just followed your voice until I found you."

The warlock stiffened, unable to hide the worry on his face. "Oh, yeah? Good thing my mom decided to call right then, I suppose."

"Your mother?" the vampire asked, closing the gap between them even more. "You're talking again?"

"Just a little." Damien lied. In his haste, he had forgotten that Rigaud knew a little about his situation. "I doubt she'll call again. She thought she was risking a lot just to see how I'm doing."

"Well, that's wonderful news." Rigaud answered with a smile. He was right in front of the warlock, now. "I was confused for a second, there, because it sounded an awful lot like you were talking to Minister Munier."

In an instant, the warlock's stomach dropped and his blood ran cold. Everything that could possibly happen flashed before his eyes. He took a step back as his eyes looked up at Rigaud's, completely fixed on his blood-red gaze. "I-"

"You were talking to Munier, weren't you?" Rigaud questioned, matching the younger man's steps. "Traditionally, lies are almost universally frowned upon, but there are situations where telling lies is not considered immoral. Like if one was immediate danger, for example. Tell me, Mister Chaput… Do you think you're in danger right now?"

Quickly, Damien reached for the wand at his belt, pulling it out of its sheath, but before he could swing his arm to point the instrument at the vampire, he heard a loud _crack!_ For a moment, he felt like he was floating, before landing harshly on the paved path. His wand clattered on the ground somewhere as the world around him spun. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to quell the throbbing in his head as the doctor crouched down and picked up the wand. Rigaud held it at both ends in his hands as he walked forward.

"Such a shame..." the older man said, snapping the wand in half and discarding the pieces somewhere behind him. "I was only told to follow you to see if you were up to anything, but now that you are, you're officially a supernatural enemy of the state. Instead of making ORSAP your shield, you've made an enemy out of us. I'm surprised at you. You're usually rather bright."

"How can I be an enemy of the state if I'm working for the state?!" Damien forced out. "I was told by the Minister of Defense herself to report to her on Stark! How does that work?!"

"Is Munier here? Who has the reigns right now? Munier or Stark? I'd rather listen to the one who can grant me my freedom or bind me in chains right now, instead of listening to the person who could maybe do it sometime in the future. Besides, despite my confusion as to what Mister Stark's motives really are, he give me what I want to have. Everyone has a reason for joining, Mister Chaput, as we've discussed, and I am no exception."

"What's your reason? You can't perv on any of your students, here."

"I don't have to. I can cast a net that's even bigger than before." Rigaud was standing over Damien, now, but instead of kicking the younger man while he was down, he instead squatted, resting his elbows on his knees in order to be on the warlock's level. "You're a smart person, Chaput, even considering your current circumstances. Here's a pop quiz: There are many ethical schools of thought in order to gauge what is the correct course of action to take in any situation. Many of your coworkers, favour utilitarianism. They do what is necessary for them to continue living, even if it means doing something that is considered to be otherwise immoral, like killing people. You, for whatever reason, have abandoned this way of thinking in favour of virtue ethics. You could have just kept your mouth shut or lied to save yourself and continue toward your ambition of learning magic, but you didn't. Instead, you had to do what you believed was 'right.' So, my question is: What school of ethics do you think I favour?"

"Being an asshole?"

"Close. I, personally, am quite fond of hedonism." Rigaud stated. "You're quite fond of warning women about me, aren't you? I hate that. What does it matter to you what I do? It doesn't affect you. Even now, it's sort of a pain to kill you, because it would be fun if you were a woman. Now, it's just a chore."

Damien's eyes widened. "I thought you were just creepy..."

"Oh, you didn't know? Ah, that's what I get for talking too much. It's such a bad habit to have… But yes, I've killed women before. I was bitten by a vampire back when I was a teacher, after all. Don't worry, though. I never ate any of my students. It would be a pain if it were traced back to me. Prostitutes are better targets. No one cares if they go missing, and you don't have to pay afterwards, if you just eat them. They're always so surprised, too! It's kind of funny. What did they expect? Nice men don't see prostitutes."

"At least you're self aware..." the warlock said, moving himself so that his body concealed one of the pouches on his hip. Slowly, he fiddled with the clasp that held it shut. He just needed to keep the man talking. "You're awfully casual about it, though… How can you do that so easily?"

"Do wolves feel badly for hunting deer? Do you fell badly for the pig that became the meat for your dinner? Why should I feel badly for my own meal? It's simply nature, Chaput. There's no point in fighting it. It's best to just do what is gratifying rather than suffering and lamenting that you have to follow the strict social conventions that society has laid out. Blood packets are fine, sure. They'll sustain me, but would I be living? Sinking my teeth into someone is the way that it's meant to be done. Good food, good sex, and good times are all any species needs to feel carry on. It's what makes life worth living."

Damien fished out the tin he was looking for and kept it out of sight. He struggled to get the lid off with just one hand, but somehow managed while the vampire was talking. "Interesting thought, but vampires don't reproduce sexually, and without living in a society, you would be incredibly lonely."

With a laugh, Pierre threw his head back for a moment. With his gaze interrupted, the warlock scooped a hefty amount of the contents of the tin. Before he could use it, however, he had Rigaud's attention again.

"That's true, but the drive is there, and listening to it isn't as enjoyable as not. Still, I suppose you're right." The vampire's arm shot out and grabbed the back of his prey's cloak. "I'm not really listening to my impulses, right now. I've never eaten a man before and am not really interested in doing so, but if I do, I can secure my freedom to keep doing as I please. Mister Stark has promised me that much."

Baring his fangs, he leaned forward, holding the warlock firmly in place. Then, with one quick motion, Damien smeared his face with the salve in his hand, causing it to glisten. The vampire stopped, recoiling in disgust at the sight, only for his eyes to widen at what it did.

"_Corpus animalis!_" With those words, Damien used all of the magic he could harness and hoped that his intentions were clear despite not reciting a full incantation. The vampire watched in horror as the warlock's features began to distort and shrink. His pupils became thin slits and his nose and jaw became longer. Before Rigaud's very eyes, Damien's fingers nearly vanished, shrinking down to small toes as his hands became paws. His ears became pointed and his body became covered in dark, brown, fur as he disappeared into the cloak.

Blinking, Rigaud stared at the fabric for a moment. His mind was struggling to keep up with what had happened. Slowly, he stood up, lifting up the cloak with him and holding it out. Sure enough, out from underneath it fell a cat with no tail. It landed on all four paws and took off running, easily maneuvering around the doctor's ankles without him having the sense or mind to move to catch him. Rigaud watched after it in shock as it made it's way down the path and out of the alley. Once it turned the corner, the vampire snapped back to attention.

"Wait!" he called out as he took off running as well. "Chaput! You can't hide forever!"

Then, he was out onto the sidewalk again and Chaput was nowhere in sight. Rigaud's eyes darted around the street to see if he could spot any traces of a stray cat with no tail, but saw nothing. He realised that his target must have gone down one of the many paths and alleyways to make his escape. With a huff, Rigaud shoved his hands in his pockets. He grimmaced, knowing that Mister Stark was not going to be happy about this one bit. Damien was on a time limit, however, so he couldn't keep his disguise for very long.

While banned in England, there were no such rules about magical pelts that transformed the user into an animal in France. Damien just so happened to keep one he fashioned from a dead cat he found on the side of the road. He wore it on his belt, and it was one of his greatest tools. It was also his most dangerous, however. The longer one wears pelts like these, the greater chance one has of not being able to turn back. Many sorcerers had been trapped as animals this way and since Damien didn't recite the entire spell, the time limit was even shorter.

That was alright, though. All he had to do was create enough distance between himself, Rigaud, and ORSAP, so he just kept running. He ran, and he ran, and he ran, and he ran, down streets, in and out of traffic, and across rooftops—anywhere that Rigaud might have trouble keeping up with him. The warlock didn't look back until he reached his limit.

Turning down another path, Damien went underground. He was at the mouth of the catacombs before he sat down, unwilling to go deeper and face the dangers inside, but unwilling to resurface and risk the dangers outside. Sweat trickled down his face as he panted, trying to recover his sense of humanity and direction. Everything was spinning and the idea of having only two legs seemed tedious. With the sleeve of his shirt, he reached up and wiped the cross-shaped makeup from his eyes, staining the white fabric, but he didn't care. He was just planning on catching his breath before smearing more salve on himself and transforming again. This time, he would do it properly.

After a while, he regained enough sense to think to call Munier and relay the situation. It would be fessing up that he failed his mission, but he didn't have much use anymore for that once Munier returned. He didn't know what she was going to do once she got back, but he knew that she needed to do something.

"I can't help you, right now." Munier told him. "I have to regain control of the organisation before I can do that. I'm sorry… You'll just have to hold out or get on the next ferry to England."

"Yeah..." The warlock figured that would be the case. "I think I might be able to manage that. I don't have much money, but I think I can sneak on..."

"Just stay safe." the woman replied. "I'm sorry… I'm really sorry… I wish I could do more..."

This was already having negative effects. Without any supervision, Johnathan was now able to kill other operatives that got in his way. Worse, if Damien hadn't escaped, he would have gotten away with it. It would have been as though the man never existed. And it was all Munier's fault.

She should have warned the others as soon as she knew something was wrong. She shouldn't have left Johnathan in charge. She shouldn't have trusted him. To be fair, her associates did as well, but she was the one who left it to simmer for so long. Now, she knows it might be too late, but she still has to make a choice.

It wouldn't help Damien that night, though. He was still completely defenseless. He was a wanted criminal that was to be killed on sight. His options were limited and so were his resources. He needed to get across the channel, but it was still a long ways a way until he reached the sea. So, he cast his spell, changed his shape, and started walking.

The warlock was exhausted by the time he reached the first train station. There were a few people there at this time of night, but they were all giants to him. They were all frightening. He had to be careful so that he wasn't stepped on or tripped over. It was difficult, given the fact that he was already dead on his feet.

He didn't have a lot of money, so he snuck on. Cats certainly weren't allowed to be there, but he hid under seats and did his best to keep his eyes open as the rocking of the train tried to lull him to sleep. He kept repeating this procedure, only getting shooed off once by an attendant, until the trains stopped running and he made some decent progress. That night, he slept in a photo booth at the station until the trains started running again, removing his disguise so that he wouldn't wake up a cat and not be able to change back. The sun was up by the time he awoke, and it was time to keep going.

His feet were sore, he was tired, his body was tired, and he hadn't eaten in a long time, but eventually, he made it. There was the boat. People were in line to pile in, but he didn't think that his human shape was in any condition to be trying to buy a ticket. Besides, ORSAP might have positioned people to look for him at the queue.

Luckily for him, there were also cars in line to be driven onto the ferry. Many were stopped as they prepared to board, giving him ample opportunity to slink into the bottom of one of the vehicles, being careful to avoid the whirring and groaning machinery. He had to stay completely still in order to not be caught in the metal and crushed, or burned to a crisp from the heat.

Then, it was all over. The car parked and he was home free. He waited for a while in order to make sure that he wouldn't be spotted leaving the car, but there, he was, on the ferry and having escaped. Finally, he dropped his feline form and collapsed in the parking lot. He was covered in oil and grime, but he didn't care. He would worry about the possible consequences of that later. First, he was going to sleep for a little bit. He shut his eyes and drifted off, only to wake up a few minutes later.

He should have been out like a light, but he felt a vague sense of unease. Forcing his eyes open, he found himself lying sideways on the floor, staring at a pair of nice, polished, black, shoes. Rolling over on his back, he followed the feet up the legs and all the way to the face, only to see a pair of blood-red eyes looking back to him. Immediately, the warlock bolted upright.

"Da-mi-men~!" Johnathan greeted with a playful smile. He was still wearing a black turtleneck and grey blazer in the middle of summer, only now, he added a backpack to the ensemble. "Excellent work! I'm impressed. You made it all the way here. Congratulations are in order, I think."

The warlock, or course, said nothing in response. What could he say? He was completely trapped. There was absolutely nowhere he could go! He was on a boat surrounded by open sea! All he could do was look up at the demon, eyes wide and mouth agape as he was both stunned and sure of his death.

"Relax. I've brought a peace offering." Removing the backpack, Johnathan crouched down and set it on the ground in front of Damien. "There's a new set of clothes inside. There's also a phone charger and some money, too. It should be enough for you to get where you need to go."

"But… But why..?" Damien began. "I thought… I thought you were gonna- you sent Rigaud to..."

"I did, I did. I really was intent on having you killed, but when Rigaud turned up empty-handed, a thought occurred to me." Squatting in front of the man so that their eyes could meet, the demon explained: "I knew that you would have to escape somehow, and what better way to do that but to travel to a place where supernaturals have a pretty good means of living? You see, what I need is a messenger. I need somebody to scurry over to England and deliver a little message for me and that somebody is you. For that reason, I can't let you die just yet!"

"How did you know about what I did?"

"I overheard you and Brittany, of course, so I asked her what exactly she said. I thought it was a bit odd that you were so interested in me, so I wondered if Munier might be planning something. I was really annoyed at that." The demon paused and tilted his head. "I suppose that you're wondering what happened to Brittany, hm?"

"Is she… Is she dead?"

"Well, now, that's the kicker, with me." Johnathan reached out and playfully poked the other man's forehead, causing him to flinch. "You've already realised that I'm not what I appear to be, but the one thing that you can count on is that as long as you're useful to me, I won't kill you. Understand?" Slowly, Damien nodded. "Good. That just leaves the matter of whether or not you accept my mission."

"Ju-just a message?"

"Just a message. I don't even care if you come back or not. As long as you deliver my message, we're good, but if you don't..." Johnathan paused, pulling out his cellphone and unlocking it. "There will be consequences..."

Holding up the screen to Damien's view, Johnathan showed the warlock an image that made his stomach turn. It was a picture of his parents. They were sitting in their living room at night while watching television. The only problem about this was that it wasn't a picture that Damien recognised and it was taken from outside of the house.

"I don't think I need to explain much further." the demon said, putting his phone away. "So, do we have a deal?"

Now, common sense would dictate that making deals with demons was, quite frankly, a terrible idea. Historically, it has never ended well, but what choice did Damien have? He could stay in France and die, leave and have his parents be killed, or carry out this mission with the hope that Johnathan would simply leave him and his family alone. He had no way of guaranteeing that the demon would keep his word, but at the very least, it could help buy him some time to come up with a better idea.

"Where do I need to go?" With that question, the warlock found a folded piece of paper being shoved in his face.

"Here are two addresses as to where he could be. One is HELLSING Headquarters and the other is his home. I'll give you… three? 'Three' is a good number… I'll give you three days to find him and deliver my message."

"Who's it for? Some bigwig at HELLSING?"

"Technically, yes… You see, over on that side of the channel, there is a man who looks just like me, only he wears an eyepatch. His name is 'Ciel,' 'Earl Ciel Phantomhive.' He's a sour sod who's unfortunately gone a bit soft as of late. I don't need you to say a lot to him." Slowly, the demon put his hand on Damien's shoulder. "Just tell him… that 'Johnathan sends his regards.'"

With that, he patted Damien's shoulder. He stood and straightened out his clothes, before turning to take his leave. "I'll leave you to it. I don't need to go to England just yet."

"Afraid HELLSING might get you?"

"Well, yes. But also, if I'm going to take on The Queen's Guard Dog, I want to do it on my terms. There are still things to do before then. Remember: you have three days. Use them well. As for me, I have a boat waiting. Adieu~!"

Johnathan disappeared from the parking deck, heading toward a speedboat that had pulled up alongside the ferry. Damien didn't need to know where he went, though. He didn't have the time or energy to care. Instead, he had to wrap his head around what he had just gotten himself into. Brittany's story about fleeing her home country because of a betrayal came to mind, but mostly, all he did was sit and stare into space, completely overwhelmed by the shock of it all. He now had a second mission to try and carry out. He just hoped that it couldn't possibly go any worse than the last one.

* * *

**A/N: Somehow, it feels like this chapter is way longer than it is... maybe it's because it took me way longer than normal to write it. Sorry about that... I'm still ever swamped with homework. I actually have a paper I'm supposed to be writing...**

**I really wanted to get this done, though, so it's not almost four in the morning. I was dozing while writing this... My eyes were actually closed for the last couple of paragraphs. Fortunately, I can type using the home row...**

**Shit has kinda hit the fan, hasn't it? Poor Damien. Also, fuck Rigaud. Figuratively, of course. He talks way too damn much. It's a character trait, I know, but it's still like: "Can u not?" I don't know how I feel about that...**

**God, I'm so tired. Night night everyone**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	53. Fine Print

"Good morning, everyone~!" chimed the Phantomhive menace as he appeared in the dining room. "Oh! That's a cute shirt, Luka."

"Good thing I don't go to Warwick, then." the lad replied, pointing at his brother with his fork. "I'd have to wear a uniform. Isn't it wonderful that I don't have to go there?"

"Yeah, you might get like, traditionally educated, or something. Ooo~!" Jim waved his hands and widened his eyes. "Spooky!" He sat down in his usual chair at the table, to his husband's left. "You're still mad about that?"

"I'm a rebel." Luka said.

"All Mackens are rebels." Revy stated while munching on a piece of bacon. "Enjoy your conformity, normie."

"Also, I bought you that shirt, so you're not that rebellious." Jim pointed out. "You don't have to go to Warwick if you don't want to. You'll just have Sebastian keep tutoring you and we'll just forge you a diploma from somewhere."

"Fine, but if I have to fit in with the family, I should have pierced ears." the younger demon informed, pinching his earlobes.

"Explain your reasoning."

"Revy has pierced ears and Ciel has pierced ears. It's normative, so that means I should be able to do it."

"Sebastian, Finny, and I don't, though. Three out of five is a majority."

"Revy got to pierce his!"

"Then you can ask Revy to take you to get them done." The menace paused. "Actually, no, take Ciel. He'll help you pick out something tasteful."

"Fair enough." Revy answered, raising his glass and taking a drink. He downed the whole thing in one breath and grabbed one more piece of toast. "I'm going to work."

A chime of "bye," "later," and "have fun" sounded from the group as the middle Macken made his exit. Luka, however, remained focused on the matter at hand.

"Ciel, can you take me to go get my ears pierced?" he asked, turning to the bluenette.

Idly, the bluenette set down his teacup and reached across the table for another piece of bread. He didn't look up from his newspaper even once. "As long as Jim says it's alright. It'll have to be when I'm off work, though."

"But you're always working… You literally never stop working… A mission can pop up at literally any time. That's why Revy doesn't have his own place yet."

"Revy doesn't have his own place because the last handyman I hired to fix up that house thought it was acceptable to try and rip me off."

"Ciel… You're a billionaire." Jim reminded.

"I know. I just refuse to be treated like an idiot. It's the principle, not the price."

"Yeah. It's the principle. That's why it's only fair that I get to have my ears pierced like Revy." Luka added.

"Why is it such a big deal that Luka gets his ears pierced?" questioned Finny. "Isn't it fair?"

"Luka is the baby of the family and Jimmy isn't ready for him to grow up." Ciel explained, putting down his paper after the menace gently slapped him on the arm. Still, the blonde sighed.

"I know it's not really a big deal and I know it's only fair. It's not like I don't get that." Jim began, "Realising that Luka's getting older is just a lot to take in."

"Aren't we all, n'est pas?" the bluenette said. "How are your French people?"

"Going home soon. Quincampoix and Devreaux are still here, but Munier packed up and left last night. Dunno what it's about, but she's a bit dodgy. Not a lot we can do about it once she gets home, though." Jim stabbed a sausage on his plate with his fork. "I told you we should've bugged her room."

"Now, now, it's always best to be the one with the cleanest hands, when it comes to international incidents. We don't even know if there's going to be one just yet."

"Are we going to go to war with France?" questioned Luka.

"No. That's extremely unlikely." Ciel reassured. "If something comes up, it won't be a war. Just a pain in the ass, probably." Just as the Watchdog picked up his cup for another sip of his tea, the group turned their heads as they heard footsteps rapidly approaching, banging loudly against the wooden floors.

Revy stood in the doorway, somewhat out of breath. He paused to regain his wind, before loudly declaring: "There's someone trying to climb the fence!"

"Right on schedule." the bluenette stated. "Since we weren't being called to the nonsense, it was only a matter of time until it came to us. Go handle it, will you, Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lord." the eldest of the demons replied, surrendering his duties of tending to the breakfast table in order to go investigate. "Come along, Revy. I'll escort you out."

"Are you really sure about that?" answered the revenant, still following the butler, regardless. "He seems like a serious weirdo..."

The rest of the table simply waited. Ciel rested his elbows on the table, folded his fingers together, and rested with his chin sitting on top of them. Jim, similarly, did not move, and simply waited for whatever was to come to come. It was somewhat awkward for Luka and Finnian, however. They sat in silence as well, staring at their food and slowly continuing to eat. Finnian wondered if he should be helping Sebastian or getting serious as well, while Luka wondered if he should still be there at all.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Sebastian returned, dragging a disheveled-looking man into the dining room. His hair was a mess and there were bags underneath his eyes. The man had a backpack with him, which Sebastian carried in one hand. With his other, he pushed the man further into the dining room.

"I will go check the contents of this outside." the butler informed, holding up the bag.

"Thank you, Sebastian." answered Ciel, prompting the older demon to take his leave. With that, he turned his attention to Luka. "Luka, could you take your plate into another room?"

"'Kay." the youngest of the demons was not going to get in the way of whatever this was. With him gone, Ciel's attention then turned to Finnian.

"Finny, you can stay, if you want, or you can go finish eating with Luka."

"I think I'll do that." the blond replied, standing up and picking up his own plate.

And then there were two—three, if you included the trespasser. With a sigh, Ciel tiredly asked: "Who are you and what do you want? This is private property, sorcerer."

"Y-you can tell?" the man asked.

"I'm a demon. Of course I can. You're French, too… What business do you have with the Phantomhive family?"

There was a long bout of silence as the man tried to speak. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound would come out. He floundered, unable to form any thoughts. The sight of the Watchdog was overwhelming, to say the least.

The man looked exactly like Johnathan, with only a few details here and there out of place. His hair was neater and parted on the left side of his head, he wore earrings and an eyepatch, but the biggest and perhaps most distressing difference was Ciel's demeanor. It was as though the coldness was on the exterior instead of being hidden away, while his general way of being felt more… human. The man was professional, but it seemed as though he didn't have anything to hide. There was a light in his visible eye that Johnathan simply didn't have. He was looking at Damien, not through him. He saw him as a person, not an object. Ultimately, the warlock felt as though he should probably feel more relaxed, but the discrepancy in behaviour unnerved him. That, and he still saw Johnathan, not Ciel.

The Phantomhive was gentle, however, giving him that moment to think. "Why don't you start with your name?"

"U-uh… Damien." That seemed to snap him back to reality a bit. "Damien Chaput. I'm an agent of ORSAP—or, I was, until yesterday, maybe? I don't really know what I'm doing..."

The bluenette shot a glance at his husband. "I'm Earl Ciel Phantomhive, the lord of this estate. I'm also an agent of HELLSING, as is my husband, here, Sir Jim Phantomhive."

"Hello~!" waved the menace with a smile. With his pleasant demeanor, combined with the fact that he was introduced as the Watchdog's husband, he somehow managed to make Damien feel so stunned that he forgot to feel afraid for a moment.

"He's currently acting as head of our Supernatural Relations Department, and has been the one working with ORSAP to help get your system for handling non-violent supernaturals in place." Ciel continued. "So, what has brought you to England—more specifically, to our home?"

"I…" the warlock hesitated. How could he explain that? "It's a long story..."

"Why don't you have a seat, Mister Chaput." the Watchdog suggested, gesturing toward one of the newly unoccupied chairs. "You look like you've had quite a hard time, here."

"Yeah… I spent most of the night transformed into a cat while hopping trains." That was cause for surprise. "I stowed away on the ferry to get here."

"Problems at home?" the menace asked.

"Yes and no… I was told that I would be allowed back as long as I talked to you, but I was almost killed, so I'm not sure what to believe. I'm—I'm sorry… Things are just moving so fast… Let me start from the beginning..."

"I think that would be wise." Ciel stated.

"So, the guy who was in charge of us, Emil Stark, is… kind of a scary guy. No offense, but he looks just like you. Exactly like you, just without the eyepatch and earrings. He's been scaring us for a while, but no one can ever really describe how. He's British, but came to France after helping a mercenary group suppress rebel forces in Namara."

"Ah, the civil war over there, hm? I heard it wrapped up a little while ago."

"How do you know about that?" asked Jim.

"I read the news. Go on, Mister Chaput."

"Exactly. Apparently, he did something to concern Miss Munier, so I was asked to spy on him a little bit and report on what I found. That's when everything went downhill." Mister Chaput explained.

"Got found out, huh?" Jim questioned further. "Not used to going undercover, huh?"

"Not at all! I just graduated college with a chemistry degree. I only joined the organisation so I could learn magic! I don't know anything about this sort of thing! But Miss Munier picked me, so I had to do it." Damien paused and let out a heavy sigh. "Anyway, I started off being a little subtle, but then, I found a goldmine of information and just couldn't help myself… I found a girl who knew him in England working for us. She's young, a werewolf, and her name is 'Brittany?' I have no idea what happened to her after I got found out… Emil apparently brought a bunch of them over from England after some sort of battle, here? She said that they were trying to go for the throne, or something."

"Abhartach's army." Ciel nodded. "Jim is the one who killed their leader. I thought he went to Namara?"

"He did, but he came to France, first. She said that he set them up with a place to stay and then just vanished for a few months. They were supposed to contact him if some guy named 'Caesar' died in hospital. Other than that, nothing. They didn't know what he was doing or where he went. They only found out about the mercenaries and Namara when he came back."

"Caesar disappeared after the battle." Jim reminded, turning his head toward the bluenette. "Think it could be him?"

"It could be. I figured he might have fled the country, but I sort of hoped that we just couldn't find him amoung the dead." replied the bluenette. "It would be a problem if he got away."

"Emil told her he died." Mister Chaput chimed in. "He saw him in the hospital before showing up on their doorstep. I don't know why he needed him, but he came back with a mercenary group and convinced its owner to contract with ORSAP. When I found all of that out, I told Munier, but he sent a vampire agent of ours after me. I'm a 'violent supernatural' to the organisation, now, so I ran away."

"Caesar was an important man in the army of Abhartach. In fact, he's partially responsible for the fact that he had an army to begin with. He possessed cloning technology that made him able to make soldiers, and create supernatural beings that would never exist in nature." the Watchdog replied. "He would have known about it if he was in on that attack, so he might want that tech."

"That could be a problem." Jim stated. "But if Caesar's dead, he might not have gotten it. Then again, he could have killed him, or just be lying..."

"We need to warn the ministers and HELLSING about it, either way."

"That's not all, though..." the warlock reminded, regaining the attention of the two demons. "When I got to the ferry, I was exhausted. I'd been traveling for hours at that point. I collapsed for a little bit, but when I woke up, he was already on board, waiting for me. He said that he knew that I'd probably try to leave. I thought he was going to kill me, but he said that he changed his mind. I'm useful, apparently. He gave me that backpack with some clothes and some money in it and gave me your address. He told me to come here within three days and tell you something. I don't really know what it means, though..."

"What is it?" Ciel questioned, his brow furrowing. He didn't like where this was going. It seemed as though every so often, some clown with a vendetta against him shows up, but ordinarily, he felt that he deserved it, had they first met when he was in a worse place in life. At the battle against Abhartach, however, he couldn't really remember anyone that he particularly wronged, but he knew how petty revenge could be.

"He said: 'Johnathan sends his regards.'" informed Damien. "I don't know who that is, but he said that you would get it."

"Hm..." Ciel had to ponder that for a moment. He believed the man when he talked about Caesar. He didn't doubt that there could possibly be former soldiers in Abhartach's army hiding out in France. The country was close enough that it was possible, especially if someone shady with the knowledge to smuggle them was involved. He didn't know if Caesar was that person, but he knew that Johnathan knew how. His father was an arms dealer, after all. But, there was a glaring problem with that theory: Johnathan Beattie was dead. He was as dead as a demon could be, shot directly in back of the head execution-style with an anti-freak bullet. Pieces of his corpse were frozen in a research department freezer to be studied, as were many of the demons the duo had killed. Johnathan had died that day and there was absolutely no arguing against that.

"What do you think, Ciel?" the menace asked his beau. "Think it's a buddy of his?"

"That's the only explanation I can think of..." the Watchdog stated. "I don't recall if he had any other close allies, though. When I was in his hideout, there was only Caesar with him. That said, it isn't impossible."

"I'm sorry I can't be more helpful..." the warlock meekly stated. "I've never done this before, so I couldn't get a lot of information before getting caught."

The bluenette couldn't help but take a bit of pity on Mister Chaput. While he was clearly a few years older than Jim, he was also clearly not a seasoned resident of the underworld. Damien knew what he was risking—Ciel was sure of that—but the bluenette didn't think that the warlock knew just how quickly things could go bad with a simple misstep. Perhaps he thought that Munier could protect him, given that the mission was from her, but with "Emil" running the show, there was nothing that she could do, especially from the opposite side of the English channel. Now, Damien was stuck in a foreign country with limited funds and a target on his back. It was a miserable position.

"Why don't you take a seat, Mister Chaput?" the bluenette suggested. "Have you eaten, yet?"

"No, I… I haven't been hungry..."

"Grab yourself something to eat from the table. Your mind and body are both fatigued from your escape. Not eating will only make it worse. Try to force something down, if you can." Standing up, Ciel placed his napkin from his lap onto the table. "Jim. A word, please?"

"Right." the menace answered, following the bluenette out of the dining room. Jim looked back over his shoulder briefly, watching as the warlock sat down before placing a hand on his husband's shoulder and leaning in to whisper: "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave him alone?"

"He's too wet behind the ears to try anything. In fact, I doubt that he's even successfully killed a person while on a mission. Something about the way he carries himself."

"And you're going to trust that?"

"Do you think that I shouldn't?"

"No idea. I'm wrong all the time about this sort of thing."

"As if I'm not? I'm more interested in discussing our possibilities, though. If he pulls something, we'll just get rid of him. I do believe that he's exhausted and weak, so if worst comes to worst, it should be an easy fix. For now though… What are our options? We need to contact Integra and tell her what's happening right away."

"What about Johnathan?" asked the menace, crossing his arms. "I think it's a fake."

"He's dead, so I would assume so, but it wouldn't be the first time, however, that I've agitated someone by killing their friend."

"Whoever it is, they apparently look just like you. Could be a demon or maybe even an incubus or succubus, but Caesar is involved, so… He's cloned you before."

"Yes, but it was destroyed." Ciel said, rubbing his chin. "I suppose he could have gotten a hair or something while I was captured."

"I thought you'd be more mad about that."

"I am. I'm furious at the thought." The Watchdog's brow furrowed and he scrunched his nose in disgust. It wasn't his father's remains and his home hadn't been invaded to get his genetic material, so there was some piece of mind from that. His sense of security had not been violated and yet, it still felt like a violation, all the same. "Look, I know that it could just be my noble sensibilities, but..."

"Blood is important, I know." Jim nodded. There was a knowing sincerity to his voice as he completely dropped the bubbly persona he put on in front of their guest. "That's your family legacy involved and not just that, it's you. Your identity's been stolen and it's being worn by some clown who wants to start some shit. Honestly, the implications of that are kinda scary."

"It's not just about politics, either. Certainly, there is the potential for our relationship with other countries to suffer. If he goes around directly impersonating me, it will be a problem, but it doesn't appear as though that is what's happening. There's also the potential for whoever this person is to try and claim that they are a Phantomhive, and I simply cannot have that."

"Nobody is a Phantomhive until you say so, right?"

"Precisely. If he does have my blood, he has my blood, but he will never be a Phantomhive. He has no claim. Luka has a much greater claim than him. I just—I hate that so much..."

"So, what are we going to do about it?" asked the menace. "Because after we tell Integra, she's going to tell the ministers, and then they will probably try to take care of it."

"But they can't?"

"But they can't." Jim nodded. "They're too unstable to fight that kind of fight. Too new. This isn't a simple, shoot him and throw his body in the ditch kind of thing. This shit's political. He has power—power that they gave him by leaving his ass in charge and that he's cultivated until it's become a serious problem for all of us. By the sound of it, he's trying to start some shit with us, too, so England could be dragged into it..."

"Our countries are too close… A war would be catastrophic to both sides. This wouldn't be some squabble between opposing tribes or a bunch of thugs with swords clashing, we have missiles and machine guns."

"Exactly. But since when do our baddies give a fuck about those kinds of details?"

The Watchdog paused to think. He knew that his husband was right. He was absolutely right, and that was a terrifying thought. Reaching out, he gently grabbed the other man's shoulders. "First thing's first, though: we need to talk to Integra. Get her on the phone and tell her what's happening. I'll see if I can get anything else out of our guest."

"Roger that!" Jim pecked his beau on the cheek before the two moved past one another in opposite directions, each with their own respective missions.

Across the channel, however, things were not at all improving. Miss Munier had arrived home, still having failed to inform her compatriots of the problem at hand. She would only do that as a last resort. They didn't need to know if it could be fixed without them. If she could just fix it without them ever knowing, what was the harm? She would maintain her reputation and the crises would be averted. Thus, her first stop was to Honeycutt's flat. If she could convince him to remove Johnathan from his post, the power that the demon had built up would be gone.

ORSAP had contracted the Honeycutt Private Military Company to work for them until they had a proper system in place for funneling regular armed forces into their place. HELLSING bought them outright, but ORSAP wasn't a private army in of itself. It was government owned and operated without any sort of middle-man to stall things. That is why Miss Munier needed to put her foot down as the Minister of Defense and put an end to this demon's shenanigans.

She pounded her fist against the man's door, brows furrowed as she shouted furiously at him. "Mister Honeycutt!" she called out to him in English. "It's Minister Munier! Open this door! It's urgent!"

After a while, she heard the door unlock. She took a step back as she watched the handle turn and the door swing open. Her stomach dropped at the sight of the man on the other side.

"Minister Munier!" smiled Johnathan. "You're back! I trust that your trip was alright?"

"I-it was good." What was he doing here?! Of all of the places, of all of the moments, why here and why now?!

"Please, come in." the man stated, moving to the side and gesturing for her to enter.

Every fiber of Miss Munier's being said not to walk through that door, however. "It's alright. I didn't expect him to have company. I'll come back later."

"It's urgent, though, right? You should talk to him. I promise not to get in your way."

She needed to move. She needed to get away. Her only excuse was gone, now, and she was too overcome with fear to think of a new one. Staring ahead blankly for an inappropriate amount of time, she tried desperately to think of something, but the more time passed, the more urgent it became for her to answer. She knew that if she walked through that door, her life would be in danger. She also knew that he knew that she knew. It was apparent by the smile on his face—that cold, lifeless smile that made him appear as a predator that was merely enjoying the plight of his prey.

"Come on." he said gently. "In you go."

Unable to think about it anymore, she forced herself to step forward as she hoped for the best. She felt a rush of relief when she saw Mister Honeycutt inside, alive and well. He smiled at her, holding out his arms as he greeted her.

"Minister Munier! Hello! How are you? Did you enjoy your trip?" He had the same energy as always whenever she saw him, but one thing seemed off.

"It's good to see you again, Mister Honeycutt." the woman greeted, but she frowned, arching an eyebrow. "Although, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I didn't know that you could speak French?"

Mister Honeycutt stopped dead in his tracks. He looked to Johnathan, prompting Munier to do the same. The demon, however, rolled his eyes before closing the door. As he did so, Miss Munier immediately rushed it.

"I want to leave." she said, grabbing the doorhandle as Johnathan locked it. She tried to turn it a few times and reached for the lock, but Johnathan just pushed her hands away. "I want to leave."

The demon pushed her away from the door, holding her so that she wouldn't fall as he did so, turning her around and putting a hand on her back to escort her to the diningroom table, mouthing the word "idiot" to "Mister Honeycutt" as he passed by. "Why don't you have a seat, Minister?"

"I said I want to leave."

"You have urgent business with Mister Honeycutt, don't you? You can't leave yet." The demon pulled out one of the chairs and sat her down in it while "Mister Honeycutt" sat down as well. Johnathan, however, sat down on the table's surface, near Miss Munier with a smile. "So, how can we help you?"

"I..." she hesitated, but tried to regain her composure. She took a deep breath and sat up straight, poising herself to continue. "I met Lord Ciel Phantomhive while I was in London." she said. "He's a HELLSING agent and he looks just like you. Problem is, he says he is an only child. Would you care to explain?"

"Really?" he asked incredulously. "No, 'where's Damien?' No 'I know you're not human?' That's what you're starting with. Oh, well… Suits me just fine. I was wondering about Ciel, actually. How is he? Is he doing alright?"

"He's fine. He's working hard with his husband on helping us form a stable system."

"That's it? Does he know I'm here? Does he talk about me?"

"I… I don't think so, no..."

"Shame..." the demon said, leaning his head to the side. "Mister Chaput better hurry up or his parents are going to be in big trouble..."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's none of your concern. You should be more concerned about yourself, Minister."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not at all." Johnathan said, looking the minister right in the eyes as he did. The coolness with which he spoke chilled her and the lack of emotion he showed let her know that he was telling the truth. He most certainly was not threatening. She was already in danger. Abruptly, she turned her head toward Mister Honeycutt.

"Mister Honeycutt, if you refuse to do something about him, I'm afraid that we're going to have to amend our contract." she warned, but the man merely glanced at Johnathan before looking back to her with a shrug.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." he informed. "I don't own the company anymore."

"What?" She stared at him, unblinking. It's like her brain stalled, unable to understand what it was that he was saying. Thus, the man reiterated.

"I sold it." he said. "Mister Stark is the owner, now, so all of the contracts signed through the company are now with him. I'm afraid I can't do anything about it, if you don't like it."

Miss Munier couldn't believe it. She wouldn't! She absolutely refused to believe that this had happened! Yet, that is how things were. The poor woman sat there, her body and mind feeling completely numb as complete hopelessness washed over her.

"I look forward to working with you closely..." Johnathan chimed in with a smirk, causing the woman to nearly jump out of her skin as he grabbed her shoulders from behind. "...Partner."

"No..." Munier shook. "No! It can't- I won't work with you! This is not an enforceable agreement."

"Oh, but it is, Miss, it is. We at Honeycutt have a legally binding contract to work with you for the next four years." the demon replied. "You don't have any options."

"What—No..." She still refused. She shook her head some more, hoping that an idea—any idea at all—would come to mind and help her. When one sliver of one popped into her head, her face lit up, even if it wasn't much.

"Mister Honeycutt!" the woman called out. "What happened to your accent?" she questioned. "Why are you speaking English with a British accent? Why can you speak French? Last I heard from you, you were an American who couldn't speak any French at all! How did that happen?!" Furrowing her brow, she glared at the man.

"You're not really Mister Honeycutt, are you?" she asked accusingly. "I saw back in London, when we went to Gehenna, that there exists ways for a person to change their appearance. If you aren't Honeycutt, then the sale is void!"

The imposter looked to Johnathan for guidance, unsure as to how to proceed. The demon simply rolled his eyes and waved his hand at him. "Drop the schtick, Caesar. We don't need it anymore."

With this order, Miss Munier's eyes opened wide as she watched Mister Honeycutt changed. His hair turned brown, his goatee vanished, and his skin turned purple. A pair of bumps sprouted from his forehead, turning into horns as his stature shrunk and his ears became pointed. With a grunt, he reached behind him, pulling down his pants just a tad so that a tail could grow.

The new incubus let out a sigh, relieved to no longer have to put in the work to keep that shape. "Finally… You have no idea how hard that is to keep up..." Caesar replied, stretching his arms over his head. "I feel so stiff..."

"But… But..." the woman floundered, recalling the name. "You're Caesar? But Damien—Damien said he was dead!"

"He did die. I just put his soul inside of an incubus I had laying around." Johnathan said. "Nothing too difficult to manage. Getting rid of Honeycutt, though… That was the problem. I just through his body into the catacombs… The freaks took care of it."

"Impostor!" the woman declared. "He is an impostor! That means that the contract is-"

"Perfectly valid." the demon stated. "After all, 'Mister Honeycutt' sold me the company, as you recall. So what if he's a fake? Try claiming that in a court of law. I'm sure it will go swimmingly." Standing up again, Johnathan walked around his prey's chair.

"Starting today, I am the one who has the control of the majority of your anti-freak forces and I suggest that you cooperate, or else I may also become a very real threat to your well-being, Minister Munier." he continued. "All I want is for you to look the other way. Maybe lend a helping hand on occasion, but for the most part, I just need you to sit there and tell everyone that everything is alright."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then into the catacombs you go." Johnathan said bluntly, holding the woman's shoulders. "I'll just have Caesar, over there, stand in for you. It'll be less convenient, of course, but it can be done."

The air in the room grew cold as Johnathan spoke. It chilled Munier to the bone, making her blood run cold. Yet, her heart still beat, as evident by the pulsating sound in her ears as she stared straight ahead in silent horror. Her initial judgment was correct. She should have never walked through that door. She should have never allowed herself to be here alone. She should have told someone—anyone, where she was. She should have told her fellow ministers about the problem instead of trying to solve it on her own to preserve her image. Now, all of her efforts were completely for naught as she found herself in the clutches of a demon. Her career was such a small price to pay for the preservation of her own life and soul. It was nothing in comparison. It was worth less than nothing.

"Just nod if you understand." Johnathan said. Slowly, the woman did as she was instructed to, still unable to look him in the face. "Glad to hear it. I trust that we can count on your cooperation in the future. Nod if you agree."

Without any other choice, Munier nodded again, knowing that she had sealed her fate. It was either allow her country's resources to be accessed by a madman, or her own skin. Once again, she shamefully chose herself. Truly, she was disgusted at what she had done, but in that moment, she knew that there was nothing more she could do if she was dead.

"Good." the demon grinned. "Let's flesh out the terms and conditions, then..."

* * *

**A/N: I am terrified that I'm escalating things to the point where I can't fix them lmao. Can we stop him? Let's find out together, because what the fuck?**

**I don't have much else to say but what the fuck? What have I done? Hopefully something not stupid. There is suspense happening for all of us lmao**

**I don't have much else to say... I'll let you guys do the talking because honestly, a lot has just happened and I need to figure out where I'm gonna go from here.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	54. Don't Pick Up The Phone

"What do we do about this?" Integra asked to the open air. Sitting with her was the demonic duo, her bodygaurd, Seras, and the Mister Quincampoix and Missus Devreaux, the French Ministers of Foreign Affairs and Research, respectively. The latter two had just been informed of the secrets that Miss Munier, their compatriot, had been keeping from them, and the overall situation at large.

"There isn't a lot you can do, really." Mister Quincampoix answered. "If you go in there, guns blazing, it will spark outrage between our government and yours."

"But, if we go in by ourselves, we might not be able to fix it on our own." Missus Devreax added. "We need experienced agents to remove the threat."

"Sending in HELLSING agents to kill one of our staff members would be a disaster!"

"But we can't just leave it to fester!"

"It'll be fine as long as we're not caught." Jim suggested, capturing the attention of both of them. The pair seemed to mull it over for a bit before they were forced to shake their heads.

"It's too much." Mister Quincampoix said. "There is no way that you wouldn't be detected."

"Not with the Minister of Foreign Affairs on our side." Ciel chimed in. "Whoever this 'Emil' character may be, they clearly want our attention. That is why they brought up the name 'Johnathan' and sent a messenger to our home. Whatever it is that they want, we have it, so I propose that you consider this information in your decision."

"What reason could they have for contacting you?"

"People get pissed off at us all the time." Jim answered for his beau. "You just piss people off every so often when you do jobs in the underworld. Sometimes, you don't even know who they are. That's just how it is."

"Good lord..." Missus Devreaux lamented, rubbing her temple. "How are we going to get out of this?"

"You do realise that if we let you go around, shooting up our staffmembers, it will be our jobs on the line?" Mister Quincampoix demanded. "It is treason! We cannot allow our government to get corrupted to that point."

"It already is. Most governments are." Ciel answered back, leaning with his palms resting on the table. "You are saying that you have a demon running the show at your organisation, putting out hits on your staff, and sending them across international boundaries to contact individuals on a non-professional basis_ isn't_ 'corrupt?' Surely, if this is the standard that you are alright with operating by, sending a few foreign hitmen is a relatively small matter."

"We have morals, Lord Phantomhive."

"So you are willing to let this demon run amok and do whatever he pleases for the sake of morality? Is it the moral thing to do to allow him access to an army that he could potentially use to incite war between our countries? Mister Quincampoix, sometimes, the moral thing to do is not the right thing to do. If you don't want him to get any bigger, you need to find a way to strike him down now before it's too late. Which is more important, the safety of your nation, or the sanctity of your morals?"

It was an uncomfortable truth. While the ideal was to do things cleanly in the most diplomatic, just, and fair way possible, sometimes, when faced with difficult situations, difficult choices had to be made. That wasn't to say that there were simply things that one never did, however, but they weren't asking to torture the demon or drop white phosphorus on him. They were asking for assistance in removing him before he devastated their two countries and possibly more. In, and then out, with no distractions or further damage. That was the way that HELLSING operated.

Mister Quincampoix, however, was still wary. "Do you have any experience with these sort of operations, Lord Phantomhive?"

"Yes. I aided the French Resistance during the war, Mister Quincampoix. I assure you, it can be done."

The two representatives of ORSAP paused, unable to really argue, but also being hesitant to commit to such grand action. Saying "no" would mean that they have to remove the threat on their own, all while said threat works against them from within the system. Saying "yes," however, would mean allowing yet another demon to run amok in their country to kill the first, possibly putting other people at risk and damaging their reputation. They had to ask themselves which was the best option out of two that weren't exactly the most desirable.

The two of them had family at home who would be at risk if Johnathan uncovered their plot. They knew that he wasn't above it. They had just been told how Damien's parents had been held over him as insurance that he would deliver.

"We would like some time to deliberate further and to make arrangements." Missus Devreaux stated. "Please give us another day."

That wasn't the answer that the demons were hoping for, but it was an answer they could understand. Time was of the essence, however, so they did not leave that meeting happy. What could they do, though? It was better to at least try and get permission so that they could acquire some kind of backing to do what they needed to do. The problem was isolated to France for now, but there could come a time where that is no longer the case.

Thus, the duo returned home, frustrated, but with no other option but to accept their powerlessness in the situation. So much for going through the proper channels. It would have been much faster if they went in unannounced. The situation was beyond that, now, and there were political powers at be that were beyond their control. All that was left to do was sit around and twiddle their thumbs until the ministers accepted their help, or the world gets plunged into war by a supernatural maniac.

Whichever came first.

Staring out the window at the back garden, Ciel looked down at the flowers in full bloom, painting the entire area a brilliant rainbow of colour. It was the same garden that Johnathan had set ablaze only a few months ago. Jim's magic and Finnian's tender, loving, care restored it to it's full glory. The Watchdog watched as Finnian and Luka tended to the plants. They were joined by Damien, who was enthusiastically shown the garden, giving him some time to somewhat decompress. It was good that those two were helping to distract him from his predicament. Maintaining the same critical levels of stress would wreak havoc on his mind and body. He was young and he was ignorant of the ways of the underworld. If the Phantomhives could help him become better adept at sitting on the border between worlds, it would be wonderful, although not ideal. Sometimes, there simply was no going back. Ciel knew this and accepted this.

Ciel didn't want to dwell on Johnathan too much. It wasn't that he hated the demon himself, but he hated the ugliness that Johnathan attempted to bring out of him. The Earl Phantomhive was able to reach the border himself, now. He could touch it and even venture over to the other side for short periods of time before it became too overwhelming. He could never return from the underworld completely. He had stayed for far too long and he no longer knew how to comfortably exist in the realm of normalcy, decency, and peace. Yet, he no longer wanted to stay trapped in complete darkness, either. He was happiest at the halfway point and he wouldn't simply let Johnathan or anyone like him drag him back down into the depths.

Turning around, he caught his husband just as he was about to strike. His arm was raised, ready to slap Ciel on the back while he seemingly wasn't paying attention. Once spotted, however, his arm fell to his side with a pout.

"Boo, you caught me."

"I'm getting sharper." the Watchdog smiled back, turning towards the window again.

"Whatcha looking at?" Jim asked, stepping closer and peering over the bluenette's shoulder. "They look like they're having fun."

"Yes, they do." Ciel nodded. "I enjoy watching them. Don't tell them."

"You can go play, too, you know..."

"I have not yet evolved to that level of whimsy."

"Aw… So you're saying you won't go skipping with me and help me pick daisies, later?" the lion jested, leaning his shoulder against the window frame as he crossed his arms.

"I'm afraid not."

"Pity." playfully huffed the menace before pausing, turning his head to watch the others as well for a moment. "I've got an update for you."

"Really? What's that?" As soon as the Watchdog asked, his beau held up a phone in front of his face. "Who's is that?"

"Damien's." Jim replied. "More accurately, the one Emil gave Damien. We charged it up and it didn't have a lock on it. There's nothing on it—no photos, no apps, nothing—except a search history detailing how to get from where the ferry docks, to our house, and—and here's the important bit: one name and number under his contacts, listed under 'Emil.' Thought you might find that interesting."

"So we have the bad guy's phone number. Lovely." Ciel stated. "Have you given him a ring, yet?"

"Nah. I wanted to see what you thought, first. See what you want to do with it. It's your double, after all. Johnathan was your baddie." the baronet held the device out to the Watchdog, prompting him to take it. Examining it, Ciel searched through the call history.

"No calls." he observed. "He was supposed to contact Emil."

"He has one more day to do it. I'd be nervous, too."

"But you wouldn't hold off on it like that." Staring at the phone, Ciel tried to burn the number into his memory, as if that did anything to help him. "I want to call it."

"Go ahead."

"We're supposed to inform Integra of these things… Then again, when has that really stopped me?"

"I consider informing her as being more of a precaution rather than a requirement." the blonde stated.

"Of course you would." Ciel didn't realise that he was making a face.

"Hey… You alright?"

"I'm… not sure yet." the bluenette replied. "I keep thinking about… I don't know… Different scenarios as to what it could be that it's hard to just find out about what it is. If it's a doppelganger, how did this happen? If it's someone shapeshifting, who is it? If it's a clone… I don't even know what to think about that."

"How do you think you'd feel?"

"No idea. Angry? Annoyed?" Ciel hesitated. "Pity? I can't imagine being born into this world as a fully formed being and having to navigate that. I also can't imagine being a Phantomhive, but 'not quite.'"

"I can, a little bit..." Jim smiled.

"You had at least some inclination as to who you are, though. I also consider you a fully-fledged Phantomhive. You're my next in line, as well, so clearly, blood isn't everything." The Watchdog stopped himself and sighed. "No… Blood isn't everything. It doesn't matter what he is. All that matters is that he is stopped and that's that. It's pointless to worry about it."

"Knowing what he is is important, because it can help us get an idea of how to beat him. It does matter, a bit." the blonde stated, reaching out and cupping the other man's face. "It's okay if it bothers you, too. You've got to process it before you can move on."

Closing his eye, the bluenette let out a sigh. Opening them again, he smiled slightly, as if he had just realised he was being silly. He took it well, too, which was a stark change from the way he used to be. He needed to take these things in stride. He knew that, now.

"You're right." Ciel answered before his smile fell. "I just don't want to think about it and become fixated on it, is all. If it were to become an obsession, I don't really think I like the idea of what that would do to me."

"Hey… It'll be alright. I'm here for you. We all are and we support everyone getting out of this unscathed, just like always. If you don't and start going nutty, I'll kick your ass until you stop throwing a tantrum. No worries. Just lead us on and we'll let you know if we think it's time for you to chill."

"Thank you." the Watchdog replied. It had taken him a long time to get the hang of saying that, but he was getting much better. While the Mackens were never really phased by it, it certainly took Sebastian and Finnian by surprise. "I want to call this 'Emil Stark' person. If he's gone through such trouble to contact me, then I should at least give him the courtesy of replying directly, now, shouldn't I?"

"Fuck yeah, you funky cyclops. Give him the business." Jim laughed. "You need a second to get into character?"

"Oh, Jimmy…" the bluenette said, pushing the button and bringing the phone to his ear. "Never."

The bluenette stood there and listened to it ring. Then, the ringing stopped and a voice answered. "It's about time, Damien." it said. Ciel couldn't recognise it, but it was hard for one to recognise one's own voice. "I was beginning to think you didn't care about mummy and daddy dearest. Did you deliver my message to the Earl?"

"He certainly did." Ciel answered, smiling into the phone. There was a pause and then a chuckle.

"Well, well, well… Speak of the devil." Johnathan grinned. "Now, that's service. I ought to give him 5 stars."

"I take it that you're Mister Stark, then?" the Watchdog questioned. "I hear that you've caused quite a stir over on the mainland. I also hear that you're associated with a former coworker of mine."

"My goodness, so direct and to the point. Like always." the other demon said. "But yes, I have been going by that name lately. It's only an alias, I assure you."

"A fake name and using someone else's face? Is there anything authentic about you, good sir? To whom am I really speaking to, if not Emil Stark or Ciel Phantomhive?"

"Johnathan." the other demon said. "Johnathan Beattie. It's the name you gave me, after all." The haughtiness on Ciel's face fell for a moment, but soon returned as a facade.

"Oh dear, that is alarming, given that Mister Beattie is dead."

"It wounds me that you don't believe me, Ciel, but I understand." Johnathan began. "We haven't seen each other in so long and you definitely did kill me. I assume you found my body, correct?"

Furrowing his brow, Ciel frowned. "Indeed. Are you informing me that that body was in fact, empty?"

"Precisely. You're very quick. Then again, you've already run through all of the horrible scenarios of my return, haven't you? Have you theorised about it? Go on, give me your best guess!"

The Watchdog grimmaced as he was forced to play along, but did so, all the same just to keep the other man talking. "You placed your soul into another vessel."

"Well done. You earn a gold star. But that just leaves the question, doesn't it? 'Where did I get my new body?'"

"I don't know. Demonic possession?"

"Partial points for the guess. I did hitch a ride with Ceasar so he'd carry me a little ways." Ciel could hear the other demon smile as he spoke into the phone. "Do you remember how I cloned your father? Or rather, tried to… Your reaction would have been so wonderful, had it worked. I take it that you found out about Caesar's efforts to clone Cornelius Wainwright, yes?"

A wave of anger washed over the bluenette as he snarled, baring his grit teeth and clenching his fist. He knew exactly what Johnathan did. He knew and the revulsion of it made him angry. Now, he stood there, silently fuming as he waited for the other demon to confirm it.

"It didn't turn out the way he wanted, so he was about to scrap it, when I found out about it." Johnathan said. "So, when Caesar escaped Abhartach's Greenhouse, he marked it as a failure and used it as a bartering chip so I'd help him escape. I hid him from Abhartach and I kept the clone as a backup in case your father wasn't enough to make you hate me. It wasn't fully developed yet, but I made it my home. It's _my_ body now, Ciel. Isn't that just horrible?"

Ciel listened to the other demon as he smiled through every word, explaining with utmost glee about how he stole the Watchdog's face, his genes, and his bloodline, claiming it for himself in an effort to provoke Ciel. It did disgust him and it did make him angry. He was furious with a grim look on his face and the urge to wipe that grin off of his own stolen face. Yet, as the other man continued on, the feeling began to fade. The tension that Ciel held in his body began to dissipate as what Johnathan was saying sunk in. Words that were meant to provoke him into action and hatred inspired a completely different emotion instead. After a moment of silence, Ciel uttered a sigh.

"Not really." he said, surprising both his beau who was listening in and the demon on the other end of the phoneline. "I'm far more interested in your reasons for interfering with French government operations and trying to contact me. What do you want, Johnathan?"

"I see..." That wasn't what Johnathan wanted to hear. "All I want is for you to pay me a little visit. For old time's sake. That's all. Just a little attention from my big brother, you see..."

"We aren't siblings. That's a clone body." Ciel's tone was almost monotone as he retorted. "You want me to fight you again, is that it? Is that really why you've gone through all of this trouble? Haven't I already proven enough how pointless it is?"

"You're harder to break than I thought, but I will prove you wrong, Ciel. I promise you." Johnathan grimly stated. "Come to France. We'll fight here."

"And what if I refuse?"

"'What if,' indeed? I don't think that I have to remind you of exactly what it is that I have at my fingertips. You know what sorts of things I can get my hands into. You can't ignore me, Ciel. I won't let you."

The Phantomhive didn't answer right away. His expression fell, but not out of anger. No, he couldn't quite place it at the start of the conversation, but as Johnathan persisted, Ciel realised something. He was tired. There was more to it than that, but that's the thought that immediately came to mind. He wanted to tell the other man to just let it go, but that wasn't an option. Johnathan would follow through with whatever it was that he had in mind.

"You want me to fight you again, right?" Ciel questioned. "If you want it so bad, why don't you come and get me?"

"Ciel… I'm not stupid. I know you'll just call your little friends to help you and I'm not too partial on the idea of getting mowed down by a hail of machine gunfire." Johnathan replied. "Come over here and solve the problem like the man you say you are. Stop me if you feel so strongly about it, but if you truly aren't bothered, then you can stay put. You can't complain about what I do next, if you choose the latter, though."

"Fair enough." the Phantomhive stated. "I would be more than happy to accept your challenge. The only problem, though, is getting approval to get there. Don't start anything serious until then."

"Very well." Johnathan grinned. "I'm a sporting man. I won't do too much damage until you get here. I won't stop, though. If I do, then you might just forget. In the meantime, I'll be getting cozy with this person and that person… Well… I'm so glad I got to talk to you, Ciel. Really, I am, but I've got to go discipline an unruly staff member. It's a full moon tonight, you know. Call me back if you want to chat."

"Will do." With that, Ciel hung up on the other man, refusing to let the other demon do it first. His arm fell to his side as he stared ahead, pondering the call. What had he just experienced?

Johnathan was back. At least, it appeared that he was. All that Ciel really had to go by was the word of some strange-sounding man on the phone. He knew things that only Johnathan or Caesar should know and his story seemed plausible, but Ciel wasn't quite sure what to believe. If anything, he felt that he believed it a bit too readily. Gods, he was tired.

His husband seemed to be the only one of the pair who seemed at all concerned. The look on his face was worried as he scanned Ciel's visage for any signs of distress. Somehow, when he didn't respond in an expected way, that made the menace even more worried! Ciel, who had been utterly filled with disgust and anger moments ago, was now completely calm and neither of them really understood why.

"Are you okay, Ciel?" questioned the menace, but the bluenette only nodded.

"I'm fine." Ciel answered. "Just thinking. Unfortunately, I don't really know what to think. Regardless, we should call Integra and let her know about what we found."

"Yeah, but… What about you? You looked..."

"Upset?"

"Well, yeah..."

"I was. I just… I just don't feel that way anymore, I suppose. I don't really know why." the bluenette replied. "It's disgusting. The idea of him having the same genes as me is repulsive. The fact that he could walk around, claiming to be a Phantomhive is an absolute insult and he will not gain any ground on that front. I simply one let him. Yet… He's already done it, hasn't he? Is it worth worrying about if I'm just going to kill him anyway? More than that, though… Well, it's sort of difficult to explain."

"Just do your best." Jim said. "I'll try my best to understand."

"It just… It feels like… Almost like kicking an injured animal." Ciel tried to explain. "I don't really know how else to put it. Even though I know he's a credible threat, especially with the sort of territory he's claimed, there's just something… I find it a bit hard to take him seriously..." Sighing, he slouched his shoulders as he put the phone in his pocket. "I know that's not an attitude I should have when in a situation like this and I'll definitely treat him like the threat that he is presenting, but honestly..."

"Yeah… Don't you just hate it when your enemies just won't stay dead?" the blonde jested, only to furrow his brows as the other man pinched his cheek.

"Only if they aren't as cute as you." the Watchdog replied. "Come on. Let's get to work."

* * *

**A/N: Hello~ everyone~! How is everyone doing? **

**I've been home all week because of the you-know-what and I've had time to write this. I've just been... dicking around, mostly, but I've also been thinking about an original story that I might post on AO3 or something once this is over or after I have like, a good number of chapters. It's some gay shit. Shockingly, without any kind of monsters? There's a time and a place, you know...**

**So that's what I've been doing instead of writing lmao. I'm hoping to pick up the pace, though! I'm not quite happy with how this chapter turned out, but we'll keep moving anyway. I'm still working on how all of this is going to go... The next chapter should be quick, though? Hopefully? I might've just jinxed it...**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	55. Dirty Work

Sound carried a long ways in the tunnels. For the most part, they were quiet, but for the last few months, the sounds of murmuring voices and things living down there had grown louder at night. People were living in the catacombs beneath Paris. Supernaturals. Those who couldn't pass for human or were simply trying to avoid the authorities hid down there and tried their best to live in peace, but there were still squabbles every so often. Mostly about how rogue vampires living down there put them all at risk.

"That fucker down the hall needs to get out before we're all fucking killed." grunted an ogre as he and a few others tried their best to cook the contents of a small can they found without getting smoked out by the small fire they had to start. "The honeybees could come in and sweep the tunnel any second..."

"We're probably not helping things." replied a faun with a broken horn. She coughed, pressing her fist to her mouth before trying to wave the smoke away. "People can probably see this from the street."

"Well, if we don't do it by a vent, we'll suffocate, won't we?" a third supernatural reminded. He was an orc with deep scars on one shaky hand. With his good one, he held out his chipped bowl for the ogre to scoop a spoonful of beans into. "All we can do is hope that they don't decide to come for us tonight, just like always."

"It would be easier if he wasn't here." the ogre grunted. "Going out there, killing humans, and then bringing them back here so they can kill us… If there was a pattern to the sweep, we might've been able to hide or something, but that just isn't gonna happen."

"I heard that there was talk of moving us to actual houses." the faun stated. "Like the humans live in."

"Why the hell would they do that? It's fine if we stay down here."

"But what if they did? Wouldn't that be a good thing?" she asked. "What if-"

"Stop bringing up the impossible." the orc said. "Just… stop it. It's not going to happen and if it did, it would be a scam..."

"Probably just a trick to round us up and mow us down." the ogre nodded. He handed the faun a bowl. "Here. Eat."

She didn't want to, but knew she'd regret it later if she didn't. Holding the bowl in both hands, she begrudgingly placed it to her lips. The beans weren't even cooked all of the way. She shuddered.

Then, with the sound of the crackling fire overlapping with the sound, she looked down the tunnel, hearing voices. "What's that?" she asked.

"What's what?" the ogre replied, downing his meal in one go. He listened as he chewed, facing the direction that the woman was looking in. "I don't hear anything."

"It sounds like voices."

"Like ours?" questioned the orc with a chuckle.

"No, no… It sounds… aggressive?"

"Probably someone finally giving that bastard a piece of their mind." suggested the orc, raising his bowl. "Good for them."

Then, all three of them heard a sound. It was a scream along with some snarling. The trio froze as they recognised it as the voice of the vampire, calling out for help. They listened for a while until everything went quiet. Then, the orc turned his attention back to his beans.

"He must've gotten jumped." he said. "Sucks to be him."

"Should we move?" asked the faun.

"Why? What do we have to give them if they show up?" the ogre answered with a question. "It'll be fine."

The other two sat normally, but the faun's gaze was steadily fixed down that corridor. All that met her gaze was nothing but the twisting blackness. Her body was stiff and she was unsure of the others' certainty, but she had nothing else to go by. Slowly, she began to relax as minutes passed and placed her bowl to her lips again. When she lowered it again, she saw something. A pair of dots in the dark.

Squinting to make sure her eyes weren't just playing tricks on her, she stared at the dots and watched as they bounced up and down. "Guys..." she began, "What is that?"

The others looked up again, furrowing their brows at the sight. "What do you want?" demanded the ogre. "We don't have anything! Get lost! Find a different tunnel!"

The dots grew larger as they bounced in place. The group could hear the sound of feet padding against the floor of the tunnel, growing faster and faster with each second. All three of them stood up, now. Whatever it was did not answer and was clearly not interested in talking. The ogre reached down and picked up the lamp beside him, reaching across the fire to turn the orc around and shoo the faun.

"Run!" he shouted, sparking the group to take off. Their hearts raced, pulse booming in their ears as adrenaline overtook them. None of them knew where they were going. There was only one narrow path until it branched out into a maze of potential dead ends.

The footsteps grew louder. The ogre looked behind him, shining the light at whatever it was that was following him. There was a flash of teeth and claws as the beast lunged at him, knocking him over and causing him to drop the lamp. The light went out, leaving the other two in complete darkness as they heard the sound of their friend screaming. Liquid spattered the walls and floor as the beast snarled, gnashing and tearing.

When the sun rose, all was quiet in the catacombs again. The rest of the world had not yet woken up and the underworld was sleeping. Before the city could come to spring fully to life again, a truck rolled up to an unassuming door—one of the many entrances to the below world. Opening the door, Johnathan hopped out. His shoes hitting the concrete and keys jingling in hand. Stopping in front of the door he paused to find the right key, trying one and then trying another before finally coaxing the door open and spilling blinding light where it shouldn't go.

"Get out." he instructed. "Hurry up. We don't want humans to see."

Bare feet padded up the steps and out onto the sidewalk. There, Brittany stood, her clothes in tatters, long hair matted and tangled, and blood spattered all over her body but concentrated on her face and hands. She stared ahead blankly with dark bags under her eyes. She said nothing. Her face said nothing. Her posture said nothing. Brittany felt nothing. She was numb to the world around her. She couldn't even feel shame for her partial nudity and didn't react at all when Johnathan put a blanket around her shoulders.

"Get in the truck." he ordered. Only then did she move.

Once she was situated, Johnathan got back in the truck and they moved on, heading back to headquarters. The streets of Paris were peaceful as people began to stir in their homes, the hum of the vehicle the supernaturals road in adding to the general ambiance of the world round them, bleeding together until they were completely invisible, all the while the vibrations of the vehicle coaxed Brittany's blood-caked body to give into exhaustion. That is, if Johnathan would let her.

"Stay awake." the demon said, snapping his fingers at her. "If you fall asleep before you can wash off, we'll take the hose to you and shave your head. You're absolutely disgusting. We can't tolerate our soldiers living in filth."

She didn't have a retort. She didn't have the energy or safety to reply. All she could do was force herself to stay awake for a while longer until she could finally collapse in on herself.

Once they arrived, she was escorted back to her room and watched to make sure that she followed through on her instructions before being allowed to be alone in the barren space. Johnathan stepped out into the hallway, running into Caesar, who was waiting on him. Mister Merritt's supernatural features were hidden, making him look like an ordinary human being as he stood there, leaning against the wall.

"Wow, you're harsh, aren't you?" the incubus asked with a slight bit of amusement in his tone. "I didn't know that werewolves actually attacked people like that."

"They usually don't, unless they're just terrible people, but they can be coaxed." Johnathan replied as the two of them began to walk. "All you have to do is starve them for a few days leading up to their transformation. She's learned her lesson for now. She won't talk for a good while."

"Well… Maybe it's for the best..." Caesar suggested. "Now she at least knows what happens when she crosses you. The others have no idea."

"I'd prefer to keep it that way for now. Keep the fiction going."

"Right… Their friend is missing because he's a traitor, right?"

"Precisely." Johnathan smiled. "I doubt he'll come back, so it'll work out. By the sounds of it, he's being well looked after in England. He's still useful that way."

"Are you hoping to use him as a spy?"

"If I have to… Or if I'm just feeling a bit curious about how 'big brother' is doing."

"Think Phantomhive will really come? It's an awfully big risk."

"If he doesn't, I'll just keep pushing buttons until he does. He can't ignore me forever."

Caesar had learned better than to question Johnathan's obsession with the Earl. It simply wasn't worth it. He would refuse to answer and then think of some ghastly punishment to inflict for the sin. The incubus wondered if Johnathan even had an answer to begin with. He was just fascinated, somehow. It wasn't any of Mister Merritt's business, though. He didn't mind keeping things that way so long as he was able to survive comfortably now. With his new body, though, that was complicated. Truly, the power of demons was terrifying. Caesar was brought back from near death, with a few perks granted to him, but there was also a price. There were things he could no longer do and things that he had to do, even if he didn't really feel like it. Then, there was the fact that the longer he was in that new body of his, the more things he realised about the creature walking down the hallway with him.

"Where will you fight the Earl?" Caesar asked. "I want to know so I'm out of the way."

"Depends on how he comes at me, I suppose." the demon replied with a smile. "It doesn't matter, really. As soon as he sets foot on French soil, he's mine. He won't be able to get away. He'll be a wanted supernatural. I'll send out the hounds and drag him to me kicking and screaming if I have to."

As he spoke, Caesar thought he saw a flicker of something in his eyes. It was unusual. Normally, they seemed lifeless, even when he was smiling. It was risky, but the incubus tried to see if he could sense anything from the demon once again. His kind could do that—they could tell what a person desires most. Once again, however, he could sense nothing. Whatever it was that Johnathan was feeling, it wasn't sexual, Caesar knew that. Just like always, he didn't have any sort of sexual appetite, just as he didn't have any sort of appetite at all.

It wasn't just one of these things, or even both of them together, however. That could be ordinary or explained away. It was everything. Everything about Johnathan just seemed "off," but the more Caesar stood beside him, another word came to mind: "Empty." The only thing that he seemed to hunger for was a fight with Ciel. Whenever thoughts of the Earl ran across Johnathan's mind, it was the only time, it seemed, that his eyes lit up. There was a spark inside of him that died once more whenever he had another task to attend to.

The demon smiled so brightly as he walked down those halls. There was joy behind his grin as he eagerly awaited the arrival of his beloved foe. He prayed that Ciel would not spare a single moment in departing as his yearning to be completely and utterly despised grew stronger with each passing day. He wanted to see the disgust in the Phantomhive's eye as the roaring flames of hatred inside of him grew. Their combined heat would set all of Paris ablaze! That is what Johnathan wanted. That is what he needed.

"I'm going to break him." he stated. "That is a promise."

But not all could dwell on such things. The impending battle caused much anxiety with both HELLSING and ORSAP, as neither of them really wanted to go through with such a thing. But, with the knowledge that Emil was indeed Johnathan, a demon who was wanted by HELLSING, they had a slight edge. The two remaining ministers, Quincampoix and Devreaux, stayed behind on British soil and had their families join them for the time being. They agreed to begin the appropriate processes in order to support the demons as they enforced the order to exterminate the unwanted presence. It wasn't a routine mission, however, so they knew that they had to be careful.

It was going to be covert. The meeting between HELLSING and ORSAP to ensure that measures were being taken for the well-being of France's supernatural population would have to wait for another time. The two ministers would have to actually go in and make sure that Johnathan did not impede the process, to start with, but in addition, going into ORSAP headquarters when they knew they were inevitably going to be framed as a threat by Johnathan was not a smart move.

Using one of HELLSING's more inconspicuous vehicles, they boarded the ferry while wearing faces that weren't their own. They posed as a family of English tourists. Ciel and Jim were middle-aged husband and wife despite a great deal of reluctance on Jim's part. He didn't like his role and Ciel looked awful with a mustache. The sunglasses the Earl wore with his ensemble made it look even more ridiculous, but it was necessary to cover his eye. Their look wouldn't be complete without Damien, however. He was the reluctant son dragged along on this "vacation." While he couldn't shapeshift, himself, Wink made him a glamour that was good for a few days. It could be taken off if need be, but for now, it stayed firmly in place. Between that and his cat skin belt, he should be alright in the disguise department.

He had an obligation to help as well, he thought. He was an agent of ORSAP—the only one not under Johnathan's control, so it was only right. Now, as to how this was going to go, he wasn't certain. He wasn't a seasoned supernatural agent like the two in the front seat of the car, so his nerves were a bit touchy. It wasn't at all ideal for an agent on an undercover mission, but the other two would support them however they could.

When they disembarked, they ran into their very first obstacle. Normally, there wasn't a military presence, here, yet a checkpoint was placed up ahead, stopping any cars with a United Kingdom sticker on them. They wore police uniforms, but the demons recognised them. Cops didn't move like that. Militias did. They had "officers" positioned in groups of four so that all sides of them were watched at all times. They scanned the area repeatedly within the span of a few minutes as the demons' car drew closer. Moreover, they had guns. Big guns. Those were not ordinary cop guns—special forces, maybe, but not for a little checkpoint like this one. The honeybee logo on their collars gave them away completely once the demons were right in front of them. Johnathan was looking for them, trying to make sure that they wouldn't get in without him knowing.

One of the agents tapped on the driver's side window, prompting Jim to roll it down. Peering into the car, the man looked the group over. "Sorry to bother you all, but we are on the lookout for a group of criminals." he said. American. Terrible French accent. Looking over at Ciel in the passenger seat, he gestured to a soldier standing on the opposite side of the car. "His glasses." he said.

"Sir, can you remove your glasses for us?" the other soldier asked as Ciel rolled down the window as well. Damien's anxiety spiked as the demon complied, unsure as to how Ciel intended to get out of this. Then, the Earl's eyes glowed red as his gaze met the agent's.

"The ones you're looking for aren't here." the Watchdog said as the crimson glow reflected in the eyes of the solder. Blinking, the other man stood upright and looked to the first agent.

"The ones we're looking for aren't here." he announced as the Phantomhive put his sunglasses back on.

"You're good to go, then." the first man stated. "Enjoy your trip.

"We will~!" Jim replied with a smile. With the windows rolled back up, they carried on their merry way.

It wasn't a very nice hotel that they stayed in, but it was discreet, it was available, and it didn't put a strain on the company funding. Ciel retrieved their keys from the front desk and led the others to their room. It was run down and the sanitation levels were questionable, but the demons didn't plan on actually using the bed. Their warlock friend, however, had the disadvantage of requiring sleep, so they encouraged him to bring his own sheets.

"What kind of place is this?!" Damien demanded. "I've never seen a hotel so disgusting! You have to bring your own sheets, there's no food… Who would pay for this for a whole night, let alone by the hour?! Who stays in a hotel for just an hour, anyway?!"

"You really aren't used to this sort of thing, are you?" Jim asked while shaking his head, having removed his disguise momentarily and sat down in one of the chairs. His husband, meanwhile, shut the curtains.

"Luxury is a privilege that those in our line of business are not always afforded." Ciel replied, taking the other chair. "There will be no nice hotel rooms, there will be no fancy dinners… Don't worry about food, but we musn't be conspicuous. If Johnathan catches wind of us being here, it will make things far more difficult than they have to be. Then you'll really not like the accommodations."

"Got it..." the warlock sighed. "It's not like I expected James Bond, or anything, but…"

"But you expected the James Bond level of class." the blonde interjected. "I've got you. When this all blows over, you should take yourself a little vacation. Class it up."

"In the meantime, things are going to be unpleasant." reiterated the Watchdog as they sat around in a group. Holding up a finger, he began to explain: "Here is how things are going to work from now on: Damien, you will sleep during the day. One of us will stay in the room with you so that you aren't on your own if this place is discovered. Right now, it will be Jim watching you while I go out."

"Where are you going? The hit isn't until tonight." Damien arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, but I need to meet an old acquaintance of mine. He'll give is an update on the other pieces in play."

"Ans what if he's in Johnathan's pocket, too?" Damien questioned. "How do you know it's safe?"

"I don't, but what I know of him is that he has little patience for supernaturals and their nonsense." the Watchdog replied, standing up again. "That makes him perfect, in this instance. I'll be back in about two hours. If I'm not back around that amount of time and haven't contacted you, assume things went awry. I'm not terribly worried, though. Afterwards, we'll wait here until it's time to move out. Is everyone understood?"

"Yes, my lord." Jim jokingly replied, blocking the other demon from kissing him on his way out. "Ew, not with that face..."

Dropping his disguise for just a moment, Ciel kissed his husband goodbye before reapplying it and checking it in the mirror on his way out. With that, Damien and Jim were left alone in the room together. The warlock tried to sleep like he was supposed to, but how could he in this situation? He was on a mission. People could die. He could die. Ciel could die within the next few hours. Gunmen could burst into the room at any moment and kill them. They could die on their outing that night. How could he sleep? How was it that while the demons were the foreigners, here, he was the one who felt like an alien in his own home country? Even back when he and his family were hiding from Iscariot, he hadn't felt quite like this.

He laid there, staring up at the ceiling before forcing his eyes closed. Sleep still would not come. His mind was far too busy.

"Sir Phantomhive?" he called out, still laying down with his eyes closed.

"Yeah?" Jim asked.

"How do you stay so calm about this? I can't fall asleep at all, but neither of you seem bothered..."

"We are bothered." the blonde answered. "A bit. Differently. We're used to this, y'know? We're just doing our job. It doesn't mean we're being careless, but… Well… I was going to say that 'it's not worth freaking out about,' but it kind of is. It's just that you get to the point where it doesn't scare you as much as it used to and that's a good thing. You can't let yourself panic on every mission."

"What about falling asleep?"

"Not sleeping will hurt you later on, so it's best to sleep now." Jim explained with a wave of his hand. "It's sort of like performing maintenance on yourself. If you don't take care of your other needs on a mission, then you can't do the job. Maybe you can, but you risk a lot more going in impaired. Look, if someone comes through the door, the window, the wall, whatever, you'll know. They're not going to be able to kill you in your sleep. If anything, I'll kill them first. Realistically, you're going to be fine right now, so relax. Go to sleep. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

That was easy for him to say, Damien felt, but he also felt as though he understood things a bit better. These were demons, so they could afford to go around, feeling a little less afraid than other people. Damien thought that should make him feel less safe, but it helped somewhat. Even if those two were demons, just like Johnathan, they weren't at all like him. They seemed like people. They weren't "normal" by any means, but they seemed more "human" and it didn't seem faked. They were beautiful, but different. They were people once, just like him, ignorant to how horrible and cruel the world could be. Damien wondered if he would wind up like that one day. Part of him wished it would come soon. The rest of him, however, wished that it would never happen at all.

* * *

**A/N: Greetings. I have returned to thee! I'm hoping to update faster, now that I don't really have much of an excuse to take so much time lol, but I can make no promises. I know not what the future holds. **

**Do I know if you can rent hotel rooms by the hour in Paris? No. Could I have asked? Absolutely yes. Did I? Nope~! I totally forgot when I had the opportunity. We... Love accuracy... It's... Delicious...**

**I want to talk about Johnathan soooooo baaaaaaadddd! I think everyone's figured out his deal by now. At least parts of it. I haven't gone into detail, but there is a bit of a pattern emerging, here, I think. I'll reveal more in a bit. I just... Want to blab about the things I think are cool! That's the hardest thing about this writing racket. You just want to spoil everything all of the time because you think it's just so NEAT.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	56. A Meeting In A Sunny Garden

It was a bright, sunny, day. The sounds of voices and cars filled the streets as Ciel walked onward, stepping past cafes, shops, and apartment buildings all built with all of the charm and appeal of French architecture. People rode past on their bicycles, walked by with briefcases on their way to work or shopping bags on their way home, and waited patiently for traffic signals. A group of older women stood around gossiping while one of their tiny dogs barked at everyone who walked past, including Ciel. The city was bustling and alive. People were going places and doing things, all completely autonomous to Ciel and his mission. They existed there before he arrived and they would be there after he left, oblivious as to what dealings went on in the supernatural world.

Yet, he couldn't enjoy it. He had to pretend, but he couldn't. He had to focus. His senses needed to be sharp. At any moment, someone could be watching him, whether they be human or supernatural. After getting nearer to the site, his first obstacle appeared to be in the prior category. Rather, it wasn't necessarily an obstacle—more of an annoyance.

An American woman—at least, that's what Ciel gathered from the large lettering on her shirt—stood with a group, looking up and around at the scenery. It was a lovely park, indeed, so she should have definitely looked around, but she was oblivious to the young local standing close to her, trying to open her purse. Now, it wasn't any of Ciel's business and he certainly didn't want to make it his business, rolling his eyes at the poorly-hidden scene. Surely, any criminal who made their money by picking the pockets of tourists knew better. An accomplice to block the view of outsiders was a must for a novice, but perhaps the man didn't want to split the profits that day. Who knows? Ciel didn't and he didn't care. Yet, his mind wandered against his will, thinking of all of the things that might be in that woman's purse that she might need. Her phone, her money, and her passport? Definately. It would be a serious problem if she were stranded in a foreign country without any of those things. With a sigh, the Watchdog shook his head.

"Excuse me, madam." he called out, capturing the woman's attention. "That young man has his hand in your purse."

He did get a bit of satisfaction in watching the pickpockets eyes go wide as Ciel pointed at him. The young man ripped his hand out of the woman's bag as both she and what appeared to be her husband turned to see him there with angry expressions. There was a bit of an uproar after that, but Ciel didn't stay to witness it. He wasn't supposed to be noticed, after all. Quickly, he made his escape, venturing further until the irate tourist group was nowhere to be seen.

Making his way to a clearing, he climbed a few steps and found a fountain. It was sculptural with images of women and nautical symbolism, but the water poured from the mouths of lions. They had sad expressions on their faces, but the corner of the Watchdog's mouth turned slightly upward. Taking out his cellphone, he snapped a photograph, thinking his husband might like it before carrying onward. Stepping around to the other side of the fountain, he found what he came for.

Rather, he found "who." Seated on a bench was a bespectacled man wearing a dark suit and a green tie. His long, black, hair was pulled back into a ponytail so that it was out of his face and didn't obscure the ever-present stern expression he wore. He and Ciel had met before, several years ago. It was he who trailed the demons on their honeymoon, back when the beginning of the end for Iscariot's occupation of the country started, allowing for the trip to occur.

"Mister Bretodeau." Ciel greeted as he stood over the man. Tipping his hat and pointing to the other man's tie, he added: "Bulldogs hate green."

"But French ones do." Dominique replied. "You got it right this time, Earl."

"No need to make business harder with pranks." the demon said, sitting down on the bench beside him. "What is the latest progress on Operation Beekeeper?"

"Slow, that's what it is, but, that's bureaucracy for you. It's being prioritised due to Mister Quincampoix's orders, but we still haven't got all of the paperwork in order. Johnathan's ordered expulsion from the country should be finalised by this afternoon, though, if everything goes smoothly. We'll be staying late to make sure it goes through."

"He had his people disguised as police officers at the dock when we arrived." Ciel replied. "The ministers are going to have to do something about that."

"I'll inform my boss. Report it to your people and have them contact him as well for good measure, though."

"Will do. His reach is farther than I hoped. Be careful on your way back."

"Oh, I absolutely will." Pausing, Mister Bretodeau took a package of cigarettes out of his pocket. He held one between his lips and took a puff, letting out smoke as he sighed. "Minister Munier hasn't reported to work in person."

"What?"

"It's true. She's still sending e-mails, though, which we're trying to analyse, and reporting via video conference from an unknown location. A proxy is being used, though, so her ip address is hidden. We suspect your man has gotten to her."

"Damn..." the Watchdog scowled, reaching up to rub his chin in thought. "It would be advantageous for him to go after her… It certainly explains how he's able to post his people on such short notice… It also makes him far more dangerous than I hoped..."

"We have a few locations where she could be, but none of our people are able to get access inside. We suspect that Johnathan would be immediately suspicious if we started poking our noses around ORSAP headquarters."

"What about the other locations?"

"The former owner of the Honeycutt Private Military Group, Mister Honeycutt, has recently and very suddenly sold the company to Johnathan. We suspect he might have gotten to him."

"So, where he is staying, then?"

"Exactly."

"What makes the sale suspicious? Other than the fact that it's Johnathan, of course..."

"No one has seen Honeycutt recently, either." Dominique replied. "He's still renting the same hotel suite, however. Additionally, while no one has seen him, one of the workers at the hotel reported hearing him. He spoke with a British accent. He was American, before."

"I see..." Ciel answered. "Probably a supernatural impostor. He has his own people apart from Honeycutt, I've been told. Well… This news is problematic..."

"Think it can still be done?"

"Yes, but we'll have to be more careful. Leave before I do. I'll wait fifteen minutes before I leave."

"Understood." With that, Dominique let out a sigh. "Listen… I may not like you very much, especially after everything you and your husband pulled the last time you were here, but… I really hope that you're right. It's in your hands, now. Goodbye, Earl."

Without looking at the other man, Mister Bretodeau checked his watch and stood up, walking far out of the Phantomhive's sight until he could no longer be sensed. Ciel stayed behind, staring at the fountain and watching as people walked by. It was peaceful. France was a nice country when it was peaceful. He hoped that it stayed that way.

He could remember when enemy soldiers freely walked the streets, forcing people to stay indoors or worse, try to go about their business as normal. At any moment, any asshole in a uniform could decide they didn't like the look of you and have you hauled away to be beaten or killed. Businesses lot money because of all of the niceties they had to provide the scum out of fear of harm coming to them or their families. Ciel didn't want that to happen again. Knowing Johnathan, he would try and for what? Just to provoke the Phantomhive? That was what really got under his skin about the other demon. He was wasteful. If you're going to destroy the world, then at least do it for something worthwhile.

Ciel's mood was soured so he decided to get up and start walking again. Now the prettiness of the park only annoyed him. He walked past flowers and greenery, spotting the tour group huddled around a statue as the person guiding them spoke. The demon walked past them, realising that he had captured some attention.

"Excuse me!" called out a voice, prompting the man to look in the direction it came from. The American woman from before approached him smiling brightly and waving. "Mister… British man!"

Good job, Phantomhive. Fantastic job, doing undercover. No one would ever know he was there.

"Yes?" he answered anyway, knowing that being rude would only worsen the problem. "Can I help you?"

"You already did!" the woman replied. Loudly. "I just wanted to thank you for earlier! I don't know what I would have done if the guy had stolen my stuff!"

"It was no trouble at all. I'm glad you got away fine." Ciel nodded with a polite smile. His expression faltered slightly and his body tensed as she began digging in her purse. He watched her like a hawk, expecting some kind of weapon, but to his surprise, the woman simply pulled out a small bottle.

"I wanted to give you this." she said, prompting the man to take it. "It's holy water. I got it when we went to Noter-Dayme."

"Nnotre dame

otre Dame?"

"Yes! We simply had to go. Have you gone yet? It's beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous!"

"I've been a few times." he replied, still holding the small bottle in his palm. "Are you sure that you want me to take this? You came all the way to Paris for it, didn't you?"

"Don't worry about it. Consider it my good deed for the day. God wants me to give this to you. It might come in handy! You don't know what's out there! Besides, I already have another bottle and I don't think I can take both on the plane. Just take it. It'll help protect you."

She had no idea just how right she was. If it was the real deal and not bought from some scam artist near the cathedral, then it may very well come in handy. With a smile, the demon placed it in his pocket.

"Well, thank you very much." he said. "I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy your trip. Try the Louvre, sometime."

With that, he made his way back to he hotel, picking up a few more supplies along the way. Chiefly, it was food so their new, mortal, coworker didn't die. Humans are so fragile. They're sort of a pain to take care of. Then again, under these circumstances, it was difficult for Damien to be as self-sufficient as Finny or Revy. The revenant was not human, but he still needed to eat.

After reaching his destination, having made sure that he wasn't followed, Ciel relayed the information to the others. None of them were quite sure as to what to do about Munier, but if Johnathan had her, that complicated things. As the minister of defense, she was able to rally troops that ordinarily, ORSAP would have no authority or need to call, but with Johnathan running the show, he had them wrapped around his finger. If he knew that they were there, it was unlikely that they were going to get back out of the country as easily as they snuck in.

Thus, before they could start their mission, they needed to make a few adjustments. They had to find Munier and make sure she was no longer a threat. Then, they would find Johnathan and kill him.

* * *

**A/N: Greetings, degenerates. This is a short chapter, I know, but it didn't make sense to not make the next thing it's own chapter. At least, in my brain, it didn't. I'm going to try and get it done quick, but my teachers have decided that online classes mean that it's okay to tell me about the existence of major assignments the day before they're due, so we'll see how that goes.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	57. Waiting For Something Wonderful

The apartment was still—dead, even. There was no sound and there was no light, save for the light coming through the window at the lit streets below. People were driving by and walking home from work, passing streetlamps and dancing in the street as they barhopped their way across the city. It wasn't that interesting to watch, but it was a way to kill time and did Johnathan sure have a lot of it.

Such strange creatures, humans were. It was almost hard for him to believe that he was one once. He couldn't really recall it. It was difficult for him to imagine himself doing such things, wasting time with such frivolities or selling his life away to afford to eat. How could they be so happy about that? They were like dogs—always happy to follow the leader and do what they were told just for a few pats on the head. Sometimes, they needed discipline, of course, but nothing a firm hand couldn't break down. They were so simple—so stupid, walking around, completely and utterly ignorant to the realities of the world. Even when they did know, they were stupid about it. Truly pathetic creatures.

Johnathan despised them. Sometimes, though, they had the power to surpass humanity and to stand tall amoung monsters. Oh, how he wished he could have seen his beloved in his prime! He uttered a long sigh as he sat by the window, yearning for it.

Ciel had not spoken to him since his first call. He hadn't uttered a single peep. He hadn't written. He sent no signs. All Johnathan had was the assurance that he would come for him. That assurance was all that was sustaining him.

All of his pieces were in place. He had made the preparations and he had done the work, but now, it was Ciel's turn to make his move. It was his turn to move a piece into play, but when? When would he? How would he? The possibilities were endless and all of them excited Johnathan.

He had sent his people to all of the ferry ports and airports to keep a watchful eye out for him, but he heard nothing. He had paid of police officers to report any suspicious activity, but he heard nothing. He sent ORSAP agents on patrol, but he heard nothing, nothing, nothing! Oh, how painful it was! There were times when Johnathan wanted to tear his hair out in frustration, but then he wouldn't have the Phantomhive's blueish black locks. He wanted to claw at his face, but then he wouldn't be his foe's mirror reflection. All he could do was wait. He counted down the minutes, waiting with his phone sitting across from him—waiting for any news at all. Then, as the screen lit up, he practically jumped out of his chair, his face coming to life before falling flat again as he read the name. Hitting the button and placing the device up to his ear, he answered.

"What is it, Caesar?" he asked. "It better be good."

"Define 'good...'" Caesar replied, trailing off a bit. "I was out and about tonight, but when I got back… Well… Turn on the news."

The news? Johnathan didn't watch the news. He didn't watch anything. His TV was just for looks. But, if it was from Caesar… If it was from Caesar, then…

Quickly, Johnathan rushed over to the TV set, turning it on and grabbing the remote, flipping through channels until he arrived at footage of a sea of police cars. A smile spread across his face, causing the corners of his eyes to wrinkle. Suddenly, he was alive! His eyes lit up as he made a genuine expression—felt a genuine emotion at the sight.

Johnathan laughed. He laughed loudly, from deep in his chest, throwing his head back as realisation washed over him. He dropped the phone somewhere as he clutched his stomach. The feeling was so intense that he felt like he might die, but it was oh, so wonderful, all at once!

After what seemed like ages, he picked the phone back up and placed it to his ear. "Caesar?" he asked. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah." the incubus replied. "I take it that you're pleased?"

"Very pleased." Johnathan grinned. "Forget your date. I need you to tighten the security at the exits. If anyone sees anyone who even resembles Phantomhive, I want to know about it. I'm going to go rally the troops!"

* * *

**A/N: Now THIS is a short chapter! I'll have the next one up in a bit, lmao. This was actually written last minute because I felt like it made more sense to put Johnathan first AFTER I wrote the real chapter? It's done, I just have to post it.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	58. Zero Shot

Eric Piers was a soldier. At least, he had always dreamed of becoming one. His father was a soldier, his grandfather was a soldier, and when he and his younger brother came of age, they both enlisted, dreaming of leaving their small town in the middle of Idaho for adventure. Only problem was, he wasn't let in. Some bullshit about not passing the physical. But look at him now, wearing a uniform and in another country, far from home. Still, he was only patrolling the hallways of a luxury hotel in Paris, but still. He was on official orders and in a bonafide militia. He was a hired gun and in his opinion, that made him even more of a badass than his brother ever could be. Plus, the maids in the hotel were cute.

They didn't wear the stereotypical outfit, but they were cute enough—much cuter than the broad he was guarding. He stood outside of Mister Honeycutt's hotel room, occasionally walking up and down the hallway to stretch his legs. On his chest was the Honeycutt honeybee insignia and on his hip was a handgun. He looked like bad news. It was really aggressive for France, but he had a job to do and he couldn't do it with his bare hands. After all, the boss said that the only people who might actually come for Minister Munier were supernaturals. There was no way that he could fight them off with his bare hands.

If only they'd come. The man yawned without covering his mouth, bored at the way things were going. It was quiet. Horrendously quiet. The only people who passed by were hotel staff and terrified-looking guests. He'd smile at them, not that it would help. They would try to ignore him, avoiding making eye-contact, only to politely force a smile when they did lock eyes before walking a little faster.

One maid, however, did not. She was a pretty thing, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and long eyelashes. She was pushing a cart with a drape over it and a few dishes on top. "Bonjour, Monsieur! I have room service for Monsieur Honeycutt. Oh!" As she came to an abrupt stop in front of the soldier, the salt shaker fell over, rolling off of the cart and onto the floor.

"I'll get it." the soldier replied with a smile, walking over to the spilled seasoning and bending down to pick it up.

"Oh, thank you, sir..." the maid answered, lifting the lid covering one of the plates and pulling out a rag hidden underneath it. "You're too kind..."

As the man stood up to return the object, he found the woman's arms around his neck, covering his mouth and nose with a wet rag. Finally, some action! The soldier instinctively reached for his gun, only for the woman to grab his hand with hers and shove it back into the holster, still keeping him locked in place with just one hand! She was strong. Too strong to be an ordinary woman. This was a supernatural!

Before he could launch into any more heroics, however, the soldier started to feel woozy. The more he fought, the harder he breathed, and the more he breathed, the more the room spun. Soon, his knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor in a heap. The much larger man was unconscious, leaving the woman as the victor.

Quickly, she turned him over, pulling a mirror out of her pocket. Looking at herself and then looking at the man, her face and clothes began to change. In a ball of black fire, the maid became a perfect copy of the soldier before shoving the man's body onto the bottom shelf of the cart, folding him until he was completely hidden.

No cameras would be able to see this. Jim had already made sure of that. Holding his hands together, he unraveled his demonic garb, freeing his cellphone from its threads. Very quickly, he sent his beau a message.

"Green light on Operation: 'Bugs Bunny.' Proceeding to extraction."

In another ball of fire, the phone disappeared again and he shoved the cart out of the way. Clearing his throat, he raised his hand to knock on the door. There were a handful of soldiers. He could sense them. Still, he had a job to do. He'd just play things by ear, is all. When the door opened, he smiled at the man on the other side.

"What is it?" the man asked. "It's not time to switch yet."

Jim opened his mouth to speak, only to realise that his American accent… was bad. There was no way he was going to be convincing. Thus, he simply gestured for the man to come outside, looking around as if it were something serious. Much to his surprise, it actually worked and the man followed him, only to be knocked to the floor with a swift punch to the face from the menace.

"What was that?" a voice called from inside. Jim walked through the door and into the suite, smiling as he was met by one of the soldiers coming to investigate the sound. "Hey! What's going o-"

He let out a choking sound as the demon lightly struck him in the throat. The other soldiers stirred to their feet as Jim grabbed the struggling man's shoulders and spun him around, placing an arm around his neck, using him as a shield as his compatriots drew their weapons. Pushing him forward, he charged one of the others, picking up the soldier in his grip and throwing him, knocking the both of them to the ground.

A few steps. Jim dropped low to the ground as a few shots went off. He moved like an animal, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground as he advanced, his hands crawling in front of him until he leaped into the air as a bullet became embedded in the floor where he was. Grabbing hold of the chandelier for a moment, he swung himself at the soldier firing at him before letting go, kicking him in the head and knocking him unconscious.

"What the fuck?!" Don't be so loud. That's a good way to be knocked unconscious by a flying ashtray. Getting up from beside the side table, Jim moved before he could be shredded along with the furniture under a hail of bullets.

One, two, three, four steps. A broken arm. Jim gripped the wrist of the soldier in front of him with one hand and pushed up on his elbow with the other. It worked like a lever. The elbow was the weak spot, causing the arm to snap under the tension. The man dropped his gun. Two left.

The man who was thrown took a swift kick to the head while he was still down, while the man who he was thrown at tried to sneak away. He was heading toward the phone, crawling along the floor as to not attract attention. Propping himself up on the floor, he picked the phone up off of the receiver, only for a hand to be placed over his and slam it back down. In his other hand, Jim picked up the lamp beside it.

"Ain't I a stinker?" It was a bad impression, but Jim doubted the man would remember it, anyway.

All nearby enemies were incapacitated. No shots were fired on HELLSING's side, with zero fatalities on either. There was one last human presence that Jim had not interacted with yet, however. Heavy boots crossed the floor, stepping out into the hallway. Picking up the body of the soldier sprawled out on the hallway rug and slinging him over his shoulder, with his other hand, Jim grabbed the handle on the cart and backed into the door, leaving them both in the room before advancing.

Miss Munier was further inside, locked inside of the master bedroom. Holding up his index finger, he placed the tip of it against the lock, worming his demonic threads into the small opening in order to mimic the shape of the key. With a flick of his wrist, the door was open and as the demon took one step into the room, a candlestick holder struck him upside the head.

Now, it was definitely hard enough to hurt or even knock a human being unconscious, but it only startled the demon a bit. Jim blinked, looking at a very distressed Minister Munier with an arched eyebrow. She didn't look injured, but her eyes were wide and sweat gathered at her forehead as she trembled. After a moment, a look of horror appeared over her face as she recognised the uniform.

"I-I'm so sorry!" she immediately stammered. "I thought—I just—There were gunshots, and-"

"It's okay, Minister Munier." Jim replied, smiling in a much kinder way as he put up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to get you to safety. We don't have much time, though. We need to go right now."

"I-" She didn't trust him at all. He looked like one of the soldiers that had been keeping her there for the last few days, but what choice did she have? Slowly, she nodded, shoulders slumped and her gaze averted. She moved to put on her shoes, only to be stopped by a voice.

"Miss Munier..." it called, prompting her to turn around to face the man. The flood of relief that washed over her was immense. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. There was Sir Phantomhive, looking back at her and offering her a thumbs up. "...It's going to be okay."

She wept as she put on her shoes and gathered her things, relieved that the end of her ordeal was nearing. Jim donned another disguise, taking her by the hand and quickly leading her out of the building as fast approaching police sirens screeched a little ways down the street. Time was of the essence, so he shoved her into the first car he could jimmy open, ripping the panel out and placing a few wires together. He crashed into the security gate on the way out, forcing it open as he sped down the street. Once things seemed to mellow out, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes darting from the road to the screen and back again as he typed.

"2 is green" he said before hitting "send," shoving the device back into his pocket. Looking over at the woman, she seemed to be in a trance. Unsurprising, given her circumstance.

Everything seemed like a dream. She had been involved in elaborate military operations before, but never in her life had she even dreamed that she might be involved in a situation like this. Being rescued by a dashing hero, stealing a car and being driven away into parts unknown… Forty-two years old, and she was involved in this sort of thing! If you had told her this would happen mere weeks ago, she would have laughed in your face. Now, she felt numb. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She hadn't the strength to question anything anymore. This was her last stop. If she had to fight anybody else anymore or see anymore crazy shit, she didn't think she could keep going.

"You still with me, Munier?" Jim asked, breaking the silence. The woman realised her eyes were closed.

"Yeah..." she answered. "I'm with you..."

"We're headed to the ocean." the menace answered. "I hate the ruddy ocean, but we've got no options."

"Are we taking the ferry?"

"No. Too risky. Some HELLSING operatives are going to meet us. Illegally, of course. They've commandeered a ship. Don't worry, though, you'll be in good hands. As soon as you're out at sea, it'll be smooth sailing from then on."

He drove for hours, never pulling over once. Eugenia eventually passed out in the passenger seat, snoozing away like they were on some road trip. When the road ran out, they'd be at the ocean. Jim didn't like it, but it was a mean to an end and in the end, all that mattered right then was getting Miss Munier to safety. He could only imagine what his beau was doing right then. Probably having a lot more fun than he was.

* * *

**A/N: They're not out of the woods yet, lmao. We'll save that for next time, though. **

**I feel like the image of Bugs Bunny kind of suits Jim in a weird way? He's really not that into cross dressing these days (it's a reminder of his attention-seeking teenage years, I guess? Pff) but he's a bit of a trickster.  
**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	59. Safe And Sound

It was pitch black when they reached the sea. The moon was directly overhead and it was late into the night, but Jim could see the ship. It was a regular fishing vessel, sitting there with nets and cages still attached. It was actually owned by HELLSING, however, commandeered from the Scarlet Order.

"Miss Munier, we're here." he said, looking over at the woman in the passenger seat. "Wake up. It's just up ahead."

"Mm?" the minister made a noise before she snapped upright, her eyes wide open. "Huh? Right now?"

"Yeah, unless you're fine with staying here."

"No! No, I'm—uh… I'm okay… Thank you for your service..."

"Glad to help."

The car lulled to a complete stop and the man unbuckled his seatbelt. Stepping out of the car, he opened the door for a the woman, helping her up as her legs felt numb. With that, he turned to meet the agents who were here to pick Minister Munier up and take her back to England.

One was a fair-skinned woman with short hair, heavy eye makeup and a green suit, while the other was a dark-skinned woman with long hair in a purple one. They didn't have names. Everyone at the organisation who knew of their existence simply called them "Miss Green" and "Miss Violet." They were spies who worked for HELLSING and would typically be in the place of Jim on a mission like this, had their opponent not been a demon.

"You're slow." Miss Green stated as she approached the pair with folded arms. "We've been waiting here forever!"

"What are you talking about? It was a clean job." Jim replied, only for Miss Violet to hold up a hand.

"She's messing with you. Good work, Phantomhive. You saved us a lot of trouble." she said, prompting her partner to smile. "We'll take the Minister from here while you complete the next phase."

Miss Munier, however, looked uncertain, turning her gaze to the menace to make sure everything was alright. He smiled, however, in his funny way. It was boyish with a hint of mischief, but Munier found it reassuring. "Thank you for your help, Sir Phantomhive." she said, reaching out and taking his hand in both of hers. She shook it, showing her appreciation to the man as he reached back to rub the back of his head. "If there is ever anything I can help you with, I will gladly return the favour, someday."

"All in a day's work, Ma'am." he said with a chuckle. "You really need to get going, though. Like, right now."

Rudely, he shoved her toward the two other women, following them while keeping hie hand on the side of his head. He pushed her quickly, making it so the two of them were right next to the two spies. Then, Miss Munier heard him say something that made her blood run cold.

"Go now. We're being watched." he said. Green and Violet nodded in response, with Violet putting her arm around the minister while Green reached into her blazer, pulling out a pistol. Then, a gunshot.

"Aah!" Munier let out a yelp as she stumbled, instinctively wanting to freeze, but Violet kept her moving. She couldn't open her eyes, but Violet could, furrowing her brows as she saw the demon blocking her head with his arm.

"Ow..." he hissed, grasping the appendage with his free hand. "Anti-freak bullets… This is going to be a fun night..."

"Don't worry about us! We're disposable!" Violet replied, ducking as more bullets came their way. "Get out of here so you can move on with the mission!"

"My current order is to protect Munier! Get on the fucking boat and I won't worry about it!"

Black fire gathered in his hand, materialising a pistol as Green fired back at their attackers, blocking Munier with her body as the trio got onto the boat. The two of them laid down cover fire, with Green shooting into the dark while Jim could clearly see. The bastards were hiding behind a small, metal shack and among various other debris scattered about the docks. Bullets got uncomfortably close to Munier as Jim tried to keep them at bay, firing and firing until he couldn't sense anyone else. The wooden boardwalk splintered beneath Munier's feet as she was shoved aboard the small fishing vessel. Violet climbed on after her as Green untied the vessel, prompting it to move.

"Come on!" Violet shouted, prompting the other woman to run, barely making it as she leapt onto the boat, only to immediately hit the deck as projectiles whizzed overhead. She and the others crawled to the cabin and shut the door, leaving Jim alone to fend off their attackers.

He dodged this way and that way, laying flat on the ground at times as he did his best not to get hit, but a few stray shots pierced his flesh, grazing him if he were lucky. He took out a lot of them just by using his sixth sense and superior reflexes, all the while slinking back to the car for some cover and to get away. The boat was moving fast, so it would be out of sight for them in mere moments, so it was time for him to make his escape.

Jim leaped forward, ducking behind the vehicle as bullets tore through it. The time between each shot grew greater and greater as the group could no longer see him or even see that he was alive, but then, it stopped. The menace paused, listening carefully. While the skirmish seemed to be over, the silence made him uneasy. There was no way that they were going to give up that quickly.

The man started up the car, but instead of driving away from the humans he sensed, he drove toward them, knowing they had guns and knowing that they wanted him dead. The car sped along the pavement, whizzing along as the bullets started up again. This time, they were shooting at only him, ricocheting off of the cab and tearing through fiberglass. His windshield shattered. Shards of glass embedded in his cheeks and sprinkled his clothes as the smell of petrol filled the air. He saw a wall of Honeycutt grunts blocking his path. The car was toast anyway. Why not let it go out in a blaze of glory?

Reaching into the glovebox, keeping one hand on the wheel and his eyes darting back and for the between the road and his searching, he rummaged around until he found the exact object he was looking for. A wicked grin graced his features as he held the lighter in hand. Leaning down, he pulled the floor covering up so it trapped the gas pedal firmly in place. Then, he lit it up.

The demon laughed, throwing his head back in laughter as he leaped from the car, guns drawn. He rolled before landing on his feet as the abandoned, flaming vehicle careened through the mob as a few stragglers were able to jump to the side and avoid it. Bodies rolled over the hood and caught fire as the burning petrol got on their uniforms, running, screaming, and rolling on the ground in an effort to put themselves out as the car itself slammed into a pole.

While these were experienced militia members, they were not quite expeirienced in this sort of Loony Tunes warfare. Most were distracted, leaving the menace room to advance. He simply passed through them, shooting a few that got a bit brave, all while making a beeline for what the Honeycutt soldiers had up their sleeves to still catch Munier. It was a speedboat and the sailors were about to leave, but stalled as their eyes were transfixed by the sight of their comrades burning. As the demon approached them, raising his gun and blowing out the back of one of their shipmates' heads, they snapped back to reality and hastily untied the vessel from its dock and started the engine. The boat began to move and Jim put his guns away. The boat was leaving. It was getting further away as the engines started up. He ran and he rand and he ran, getting to the very edge of the pier before he soared.

The demon put out his arms, stabilising himself in the air as his eyes stayed fixed on the boat. It kept moving further and further away. Bullets whizzed by him, some hitting him. One took off a piece of his ear as he fell. He fell and he fell and he fell, reaching out for the boat as their arcs intersected. Then, they didn't.

Jim hit water.

The salty water hurt him—hurt his mind. Visions of his time at sea, kidnapped by the Scarlet Order flashed through his mind, but he still reached out a hand and grabbed onto something. It yanked him along, through the water as the force of the liquid being disturbed around him pummeled him. His knuckles were paper-white as he held on for dear life, unable to even open his eyes as he was dragged further and further into open water.

His muscles ached as he used his inhuman strength to pull himself forward, holding onto the rope that bound him to the boat with one hand, placing the other in front of him one after another until he was dangerously close to the vessel's rudder. If the water willed it, it could send him straight into the blades and that would be the end of the mission. He couldn't stop them if he was slashed to ribbons while out at sea. He wouldn't die, but he couldn't save Miss Munier. So, he had to keep going.

Relief washed over him as his head broke through the water and he felt the wind on his face. His grip slipped as he tried to grab onto the boat, but his powerful digits bore into the metal. He clawed his drenched carcass out of the water and onto the deck, not yet capturing the attention of the others as they were all focused at circling and firing at the shipping vessel that Munier occupied. Raising his own weapon, the blonde aimed it at the driver's head. With that first shot, the boat could no longer move with purpose and instead passed by the fishing boat as the other soldiers turned their heads.

"Evening, lads." bubbled up from the menace's throat.

Four shots later and Jim was the only one on that boat. Wobbily, he made his way to the driver's seat and threw the man's body overboard, taking his place before using his hand to wipe the blood off of what remained of the windshield. Now, Sir Jim Phantomhive was a man of many talents and expertise, but sailing? Sailing was not one of them. He had no idea how to drive his freshly commandeered boat, but there was a steering wheel and a gas pedal. That was good enough for him. The boat idled in the water for a bit, allowing for the fishing boat to drive past, honking it's horn as the Phantomhive waved to it. With that, he turned around and started heading back to shore.

He took a moment to rest a bit as he did. He took a few deep breaths. The man was shaken from being under the water, still pained by the taste and smell of salt water. But, if he could make his escape, he could head back to his husband and regroup. Already, though, he found a few problems with that plan. There were still a few agents on the shore. He could see them illuminated by the still burning car. Something told him that they were going to be a bit miffed at him once he returned. The other problem, however, was immediately more serious. He had no idea how to stop.

He wasn't going to. Instead of heading back to face the group head-on, he turned the wheel and sped along the shoreline, looking for a better spot to depart. A laugh escaped him as he saw the soldiers scatter, trying to follow him on foot and climbing into their cars. Good luck to them. It was dark and a bunch of humans weren't going to be able to see him that well, moving that fast in the darkness. Taking this lull in the battle as an oppurtunity, he focused on healing his wounds, unraveling his threads just enough to free his cellphone before calling Ciel.

"Hey, babes," he greeted over the hum of the engine. "Bugs Bunny is all green."

"You're supposed to send me a text." Ciel replied. "What's that noise?"

"Well, the good news is that the minister is home free to England. The bad news is that they totally know we're here."

"What happened?"

"Promise you won't be mad..."

"What. Happened. Jim?" The bluenette, despite possessing a sense of humour, nowadays, did not seem impressed."

"I'm in a speedboat I stole from ORSAP." the menace bluntly informed, metaphorically "ripping off the band-aid," so to speak. "They were headed after Munier in it, so I hopped aboard and killed them. There's still quite a few pissed off guys on the shore, though, so I'm running along the water until I lose them instead of heading straight back to shore. I may or may not run into a few problems getting back, but it'll be fine."

Silence. There was a very long, uncomfortable silence coming from the other end of the line. "Ciel?" Jim asked, pausing to listen, only to be met with still more silence. "You're mad, aren't you?"

"Just… Get back here in one piece, alright?" the Watchdog answered. Jim recognised the worried tone in his voice. It was kind of him to try not to show it, though. "Do you need any help? Where are you?"

"I'm a little ways North of the drop off point."

"It'll take hours to get there..." the bluenette muttered, mostly to himself, knowing that help wouldn't get there in time.

"I've got it handled. Just focus on your end. Johnathan's going to be distracted by me, for now, so close in on him!"

"You're going to be bait?!"

"When opportunity comes, take it! It's not like I really have a choice right now. I can handle myself. Trust me."

"I know you can..." Ciel replied. "It's just thinking about what Johnathan would do if he caught you that makes me uneasy."

"I can handle him, too. His kind's easy. Just piss him off until he does something stupid. Whoa!" The menace exclaimed as he ducked, a bullet whizzing past his head. "Well, shit, they've caught up."

"What was that?!"

"Just a gunman don't worry about it! I've got to take care of it, though, so I'm going to have to hang up! Love you! Bye-bye!"

"Jim, don't you dare hang up on m-!"

With that, the phone disappeared in a flicker of black flame. Jim didn't doubt that his husband was absolutely furious at him, but the blonde figured he'd simply make up for it later. Right at that moment, however, he needed to focus on getting out alive. While he was on the water, there was nowhere for him to go, so he would simply have to head toward shore. Problem was, there was a truck full of solders that were currently shooting at him from land. Not a problem, though. He had already worked out how to clear them out and distract them all at once.

He held his foot down no the gas pedal and stormed toward them, only, he miscalculated a bit. Instead of launching the boat toward them, hitting the dock with the curved bow at that speed sent him higher than he expected. He went over the truck, missing it completely before landing on the other side. The momentum propelled him forward until the boat started to turn sideways as it traveled along the ground, rolling over with Jim still at the wheel. He was battered and bruised before finally being flung from the vessel, rolling as the speedboat hit the side of a building across the street.

"Aaaugh..." he grunted, hobbling to his feet. That actually hurt. Blood trickled down from his forehead and his body ached as if he had gotten in a fistfight. He was glad Ciel hadn't seen that.

But, embarrassment aside, he had other problems. The gunmen were still coming, although their eyes were fixed on the boat. They'd soon realise that he wasn't still inside of it, so he needed to run. He ducked down a narrow walkway, trying to evade their sight, only for his eyes to widen as a few figures swarmed the exit of the channel and took aim at him. Yet, he persisted, jumping like Spring-Heeled Jack over their heads as they raised their barrels, trying to track him. With another roll, he landed on his feet, but then, a shot rang out.

Jim grunted as another bulletwound added to the few that he had already endured, but this one was especially painful. It went straight through the side of his knee, tearing his tendons and sending him face-first into the ground. In an instant, he knew just how hard that was going to be to heal. Humans couldn't fully heel their tendons, but he could, after a while. From the sting he felt, though, that was an anti-freak bullet, just like the others, so he would be down a leg for a while. Still, he could not give up.

Slamming his hands into the concrete, he put his other foot underneath him and began to hop, only for another shot to ring out. This time, he dodged it. It was a sniper. The fuckers. With them stationed somewhere overhead and the soldiers right behind him, the situation seemed bleak as he was face down again, unable to properly roll without both legs. He felt a presence to his side and put a hand up, only for a massive fist to collide with his nose anyway. It wasn't as hard as he could punch, but it was enough to knock his brains around a bit after the boatwreck had warmed them up. The hand grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the ground before the menace found a knee on top of his neck, suppressing him. A few more joined the orc.

Hugo held the Englishman down as Rigaud joined in, placing a knee on his back and holding his legs. Despite their combined strength, the demon was still able to push up off of the ground and try to shake them off. He was like a wild animal caught in a trap. For all intents and purposes, though, he was.

The other soldiers gathered around in a circle, completely blocking any path the blonde could take even if he did get free, making the menace doubt his survival for a moment. That was a mistake. That was a stupid, idiotic mistake! He would kick himself if he had both legs, but right at that moment, he realised that they weren't shooting at him despite having him on the ground. That realisation led to another: Johnathan wanted him alive.

He relaxed a bit at that. While he knew that the demon would in no way treat him kindly, but he knew that he would not kill him so long as he was useful for hurting Ciel. So, he laid there nicely and smiled.

"Evening, boys." he said. "Best two out of three?" He laughed until Rigaud squeezed his bad knee.

"Quiet, brat!" the former professor growled.

"Oh, you speak English? That's great! Now you can understand me when I tell you to eat shit!" Jim laughed as his knee was squeezed again. "Ha! That tickles!"

"My, my, my… If it isn't his Lordship's little concubine..." a voice called out from the parting mob. Jim's smile wavered a little bit at the sound. He recognised it. He heard it every day. Ordinarily, it said sweet things to him, but now, it seemed intent on hurting him. So be it. Jim's resolve would not break that easily, no matter how it disturbed him.

Johnathan approached the Phantomhive with a woman in tow. Annie carried a long-range rifle in her hands as she stared down at the man. Jim was a demon, she was told, but already, there was something different about him. His eyes could see her as he looked in her direction. Johnathan, however, could not, but he did see Jim. He saw Jim very well as a smile was spread wide on his face.

It was disturbing for Jim to look up at his captor. The face was the same, but he was so, very, different all at once. The hair was messy and he dressed like a mobster, but not one of the same class as Ciel. Most disturbingly, however, was seeing his husband's face with both eyes. There was something fundamentally wrong with the image. It was like a perversion of his form.

"Woooow..." Jim smirked. "Ain't you an ugly fucker? How you been, Johnny?"

"I'm doing just fine..." Johnathan chuckled. "Although I'm a bit disappointed. I was hoping you'd be your husband. And I'd appreciate it if you'd call me 'Emil' in public."

"No dice, two-eyes."

"Rebellious as ever. And obnoxious." The other demon said as he looked around. "You've done quite the number on my little group, it seems… You seem to be a bit relaxed for someone in your position. Injured, surrounded by enemy soldiers, all armed to the teeth, after having royally pissed them off, and you're still smiling? Seems like a bit of a bad time for a fit of the giggles, Macken."

"It's 'Phantomhive,' sugar-tits. More than you'll ever be. I may be a cocky little pain in the ass, but I'm no idiot. If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead. You don't swarm somebody like this and not open fire if you want to see them die. That's obvious. My guess is that you're hoping to use me as a way to piss off my darling husband, isn't that right?"

Johnathan snapped his fingers and pointed at the menace before drawing one of his pistols from his holster. "Bingo. You're right on the money. Now… are you going to go quietly, or am I going to have to shoot the other leg?"

"I don't really have a choice, now, do I? It's never a choice, so I don't understand why you're asking. Come on, kids, let's go to the torture chamber, already. Get this show on the road."

Pausing, Johnathan lifted his chin, prompting the orc and the vampire to pick up the menace and force him to his feet. He hobbled on his good leg as the two men held him upright. All the while, he smiled, not showing one single ounce of pain.

"How on earth Ciel decided to associate himself with you, I'll never understand..." Johnathan said, scrunching his nose in disgust. He turned around and started walking, prompting the group to move with him.

"Because I'm a 'catch,' obviously. Duh." In an instant, the other demon turned around and shot Jim in the stomach, causing him to double over for just a moment. Then, with a deep breath, the menace stood upright again, smiling so that he didn't wince. It was going to be a long, long, night, it seemed.

Onward, they walked, in a slow trudge to the waiting armoured truck that would transport them back to headquarters. Every step ached for the menace as he slowly tried to heal himself. Still, he had one last jab to make.

"_Bonjour, Hugo."_ he said, sampling from the only French he knew. It wasn't a lot, but he did technically pass it in school. His words caught the attention of the orc, who walked beside him, holding him up, now looking at him wide-eyed.

"How do you know my name?" the orc asked him in proper French, but the menace did not understand him.

"Ignore him, Hugo." Rigaud muttered under his breath. "He's going to just try to get a rise out of you too."

Still, the orc stared, about to avert his gaze to ignore the demon, only for Jim's eyes to catch his gaze. Jim turned to face him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. The intensity of his gaze surprised the orc, but the sincerity startled him. The blonde was no longer smiling. Taking a breath to suppress his pain, the blonde gathered himself before saying:

_"__Damien Chaput. Vive Damien Chaput."_

It was broken and it took a moment for Hugo to understand because of the odd phrasing, but the orc's brows raised and his jaw fell open. Damien had been killed! None of them saw it, though. Hugo and Annie had been told that Damien had become a dangerous supernatural and betrayed them, but it never quite felt right. It didn't feel like Damien. Damien wanted to learn magic and he wanted it so bad that he signed his life away to the organisation. For him to go around, killing humans? It didn't sound right. It wasn't right. It wasn't just. Emil killed Artus and then Damien? Something was wrong, but the orc couldn't put it together just yet. Then, the English demon in their grasp said that. What if Damien wasn't dead? What if the Phantomhive were telling the truth?

But Hugo could not ask him. He didn't speak English and he certainly couldn't say anything in front of Rigaud. Hugo furrowed his brow and snarled. "Shut up!" he told the demon before turning his head and facing away. "Damien is dead… Stop lying..."

But he knew that Jim wasn't lying. He just couldn't let Rigaud know that. He had to keep it to himself—for now, at least. So, he just kept walking, shoving the menace into the back of the truck like a good little soldier. All the while, knowing that something was very, very, wrong. Now Hugo knew for certain and didn't have to try and make excuses for it anymore: He could not trust Emil Stark.

* * *

**A/N: This was hard to write in the begining! I just did not want to write an action scene for some reason. I just wanna write shippy crap, maaaaaannnn... Still, it got fun toward the end. **

**Jim is allergic to shutting the fuck up. Also, his husband is not going to be happy. Not one bit. **

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	60. Boiling Over

It had been a very long time. Ciel and Damien had left the hotel hours ago and headed down into the catacombs below the city. They were prepared to head down there every night if they could catch Johnathan on one of his weekly sweeps of the area. They were relatively near one of the common access points that Honeycutt used, according to Damien, so Ciel's signature would be in range for Johnathan to sense him. Once that happened, the Watchdog knew he would come running. He would kill the demon on sight below the city where no one could see. He would be just a casualty in the war against dangerous supernaturals.

That is, until Munier spoiled their plans. Jim was supposed to be down there with him, but the plan changed. He was supposed to meet them back at the hotel when morning broke, but first, he needed to call Ciel to make sure that he knew that he had escaped from his pursuers.

Jim did not call.

It had been three hours since Ciel last heard from him—far longer than what he felt was appropriate. Ordinarily, if they were running away from enemy forces, especially in this setting, it should have taken Jim a little over an hour to escape into the crowd. Furthermore, it simply wasn't like Jim not to call. He always did. It was courtesy! It wasn't something that one merely forgot! It's one thing to forget to call one's spouse if they forgot to pick up the post, but it was another entirely to forget to inform them if one was still alive! Ciel didn't doubt that Jim wasn't dead, however. He knew he was alive. The contract on his tongue was still intact. Ciel knew what the consequences were for being captured alive, however.

Johnathan wanted to get under his skin? That was how. That was exactly how he could do it. Stealing Ciel's face? The Watchdog was over it. His parents' remains? Old wounds. But his spouse? Oh, his spouse! That was the way to Ciel's heart. If serious harm were to befall his husband, the Watchdog had no idea what he would do. He knew of several things he could do, but none of them were particularly in alignment with the person he wanted to be. Giving in to the darker aspects of his own psyche would mean that Johnathan won. He would have gotten what he wanted. For Jim, though? Ciel wasn't sure that he wouldn't lose it over him.

Already, he was pacing back and forth, up and down the tunnel he and Damien were standing in. In his mind ran through all of the things that Johnathan could be doing to his beloved and his heart raced. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried not to lose his head, taking deep breaths in order to keep himself calm. Oh, if Johnathan damaged even one strand of hair on Jim's precious little head, Ciel knew that he would make him pay for it.

Wait. No, no. That wasn't right. No revenge. Just cold blooded murder. Keep it impersonal and keep it clean. There was no need to destroy all of Paris, trying to chase Johnathan himself. If Jim was captured and taken back to ORSAP headquarters, and Ciel decided to go after him? It would mean the end for all of them. He didn't want his anger to burn down everything. There was still Luka, Revy, Finny, and Sebastian to get home to. Ciel promised to take Luka to get his ears pierced and to call someone to work on getting that old house down the road ready for Revy to move into. He still had things that he needed to live for and do. But Jim? Oh, Jim… Could he really stand allowing him to be in Johnathan's hands?

"Damn it..." Ciel hissed, finally caving and pulling out his phone. The light made Damien squint as the two of them had been sitting in pitch darkness for the past few hours.

"What are you doing?" the warlock asked. "Calling Sir Phantomhive?"

"Headquarters." the demon curtly answered. It wasn't Damien's fault and being rude to him wasn't going to help anything. It didn't even make Ciel feel any better. In fact, it only made him feel worse. "Sorry..."

"It's alright..." It wasn't, but Damien could understand. This whole situation was terrible. He was surrounded in darkness and on the run from a militia that was eager to tear the man he was with limb from limb and he didn't exactly believe Johnathan when he said that he'd let him go if he came back.

Someone picked up on the other end of the line. "Integra…" the Watchdog irritably began, "What is the status of the bureaucratic end of things?"

"Well, 'hello' to you too..." the woman replied. Sir Integra sat in her office as she did most nights, overseeing the French bureaucrats as two of them wrapped up. "From what Quincampoix and Devereux have told me, Johnathan should lose his seat in the organisation very shortly. Miss Munier has just arrived as well. Why? Did something happen? I heard from Green and Violet that the hand off did not go smoothly..."

"Jim was captured."

"That is a problem… Do you know where he's been taken?"

"Probably back to ORSAP headquarters, but I don't know. I figure it's wherever Johnathan thinks he has the biggest chance of luring me into a fight."

"Don't let him. You know Jim can hold his own, so don't take the bait. Hold out long enough, and Johnathan will have to come to you."

"We need to speed things up." the Watchdog said. "If we can get Munier to hurry up and take his fangs away, he can't bite. I know that he's going to try to lure me into ORSAP headquarters where all of his hired guns are and I highly doubt that anyone's getting away clean if things come to that."

"Patience, Ciel. Jim is your soft spot and he knows that. Think with your head. That's his best change right now."

"Just hurry." With that, the line went dead and Integra was listening to the dial tone. With a shake of her head, she hung up before looking to her right hand.

"Seras. Take Munier to Quincampoix and Devreaux" she said, prompting the woman to salute. "And get Canary to give her the paperwork."

"Yes, sir!" the vampire replied, turning on her heel to march Munier down the hall.

Ah, how the minister was tired. She walked while wrapped in a blanket, desperate to lie down, but she wasn't saved so that she could relax. No, they were going to put her to work. There would be no rest until the leaders of ORSAP had taken control back from Johnathan Beattie. She was dreading seeing her coworkers, as she had no doubt that they had been filled in on the situation. Her fears were only confirmed as she walked into the conference room where the other two ministers sat waiting for her, both of them glaring as they looked up from their paperwork.

"Thank you very much, Miss Victoria." Missus Devreax said before addressing her fellow minister. "Have a seat, Munier."

There was no "Miss" on the beginning of her name—no "Minister-"she was just "Munier." Even Seras was "Miss Victoria," but Munier? Munier was Munier. Her compatriots were cross with her. No, more than that. They were furious. Still, without any other options or any will left to fight, Eugenia sat down as a briefcase full of documents was placed in front of her.

"You have absolutely crossed the line, Munier." Missus Devreaux said. "I'm sure that you are more than aware of the threat that your inaction on this matter has caused. A demon has had direct access to our country's military resources. Our weapons, our soldiers—everything! And he wants to use them to wage a war in our streets with our citizens as casualties. What's more, is you've potentially caused our peaceful relations with the United Kingdom to be in jeopardy. I'm also certain that you are more than aware of the ramifications of such actions."

"I am." Miss Munier agreed, quietly nodding along as the other two spoke.

"You could very well face charges of treason, Munier." Mister Quincampoix chimed in. "I doubt that you will, however, since you were under duress for a period, but you going to him and you keeping him a secret from us will be on your record permanently."

"I understand." Without even thinking about it, Munier opened up the briefcase and pulled out the first packet of paper, glancing over it to see what it was before picking up a piece of paper to sign it. They were orders for standard military personnel to withdraw until further notice and to revoke their firepower from ORSAP for the time being.

"All of those orders have been looked over by us. All that you need to do is sign them." Mister Quincampoix stated. "We must correct your mistake and fix the situation quickly."

"I understand." Even though they, too, allowed Johnathan to run amok, it was she who realised it first and chose not to warn the others. It was her who chose to try and maintain her reputation and her position instead of trying to stop the demon before he got too big. That is why she was the one to take the fall for all of this. "It's over for me. My career is over. My name is mud. I will do this last thing for my country, and then I will resign. I will make accept the consequences, whatever they may be, and make amends. That's all I can do now."

The entire time, she pulled one paper after another and signed her name on the line at the end of each one. What more could she do? It was over. It was all over for her. She was given this one last chance to do the right thing, however, and she was going to do it. It was the least she could do. It was over. It was all over for Minister Munier. Over and over, she signed her name in stone, cold, silence as the group frantically issued emergency orders, never slowing down, even as her writing hand shook and her eyes started to grow wet. It was over. It was really over. All of those years in service were wasted. All of that time spent was for nothing. Her very freedom, too, was once again in jeopardy, but still, she needed to do this. These would be her final orders as France's Minister of Defense, and she was determined to make them count.

But, so long as those documents were there and not faxed to the appropriate offices, Johnathan remained in control. He haunted the halls of ORSAP headquarters, lingering inside of the building while he was not meant to be there. No one knew, though. He became a part of the building, almost, so much so that it was hard to separate him from it. He was the outsider, here, yet he was making it appear as though the house belonged to him.

And he had Jim, the one outsider who was actually permitted to be there. He had the Phantomhive strung up in a prison cell that he ordered to be built. The agents had stripped him down to his underwear before placing him carefully in the specialised cell. Thank God, he thought to wear boxer briefs, at the very least. His legs were bound as he hung from the ceiling, his arms tied behind his back and his neck collared. Thick chains held him in place, both in his bindings, and around his collar, stretching to the floor and being bolted to the floor. There was a layer of bars between him and his guards, along with several layers of bulletproof glass.

Along with these countermeasures, the Phantomhive was already more than a bit worse for wear. Some of his gunshot wounds had closed by now, but Johnathan just shot him again to make more, sometimes slashing at him with the blade on the end of his guns. He circled around Jim, ducking underneath the heavy chains that weighed the blonde down, or stepping over the end that sagged. His eyes bothered Jim. They were both blue and "perfect." By now, the menace was more than accustomed to Ciel's eyes, finding them beautiful, but those eyes were absolutely hideous. It seemed only reasonable that Johnathan wouldn't look at Jim the way Ciel did, but it was still "wrong" to the menace. Ciel always looked at him kindly. There was always a little spark in them that made Ciel seem always so happy to see him, even when they weren't doing anything particularly special. "Adoration" was a good word, he thought. But Johnathan? He didn't seem to see Jim at all. His eyes didn't focus on him quite right, like he was simply facing him rather than looking at him. Jim knew that he was actually looking at Ciel—or rather, a way to torment Ciel. That's all Jim was to him and both of them knew it. Jim was not a toy or even a piece of meat. He was bait for a much more valuable beast to Johnathan, making him not even worth seeing.

"So, what's it feel like to be the ugly one? Does it hurt your widdle demon fee-fees?" asked the menace. Throughout this entire endeavour, he did not lose his spirit in the slightest. Even as his blood pooled around the drain in the center of the cell, even as he was shot and beaten, he was still able to laugh through it all. The onlooking supernaturals who were meant to be guarding him seemed to be the only ones who were horrified by the situation.

Hugo had to listen to the menace taunted Johnathan in a language he could not understand, while Annie understood, but didn't know how to wrap her brain around the garish display. It was awful. It was truly awful! She hadn't seen anything like it! Brittany was in a similar boat but felt a little more complexly on the matter. She had experienced Johnathan's wrath first hand, after all.

She blinked each time the demon struck the baronet with the crowbar in his hand. Her eyes glazed over as she tried to disappear somewhere inside of her own head. Yet, each time the menace was struck, he would smile, laugh, and sometimes let out a retort. It was the only thing she could hear after a while. The proud baronet of the Phantomhive family who she had met once in kindness and once on the battlefield—who preached to her about how she was making a mistake and about how she should just go home, was acting like an absolute lunatic. It was scary. She didn't want to see it. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to be there anymore but knew that she had no choice but to stand there and look in the direction of the violence.

None of them knew how he was able to do that. None of them knew why he didn't just be quiet or do what Johnathan says! Just give him what he wants and he'll leave you alone! He was either an idiot or just genuinely crazy. The consensus was that it was most likely the latter.

"Damn, you even hit like Ciel..." the menace groaned, "Back when he was an asthmatic, preteen, human. Ha!"

"Your pathetic taunts have no affect on me, so save your breath, Maken." Johnathan stated, running a hand through his hair. His jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up as he worked, speaking while poking one of the blonde's gunshot wounds with the crowbar. "If you think you're going to avoid pain by laughing, by all means, go right ahead. It doesn't matter to me, either way."

"You're reeeaaally bad at this whole 'torture' thing, aren't you?" Jim questioned while arching an eyebrow. "But that isn't what suits you, is it? You haven't asked me any questions, so it's not information you want. You're just roughing me up to make Ciel mad, right?"

"You aren't as stupid as you appear to be, Mister Macken. You know him better than anyone, don't you? Of course, I am. I know very well that torture does nothing but make the one being tortured want to make the torture stop, so it is a very poor way of obtaining information."

"God, even your accent is stupid. It sounds fucked up with his voice." the menace answered, earning another strike. He coughed, spraying droplets of blood to the floor. "Whoa, easy there, bargain bin… You were telling me about your evil plan?"

"I don't know why I even bother… Explaining it to you doesn't matter. But you do appear to be disturbed by my resemblance to our friend, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we're bestest friends, y'know? Real mates, us two. We've got a regular bromance going on. Ciel—not you. You're… honestly kind of hilarious." the menace laughed. "Just like, in all of the wrong ways. You go around, wearing his face, but it just feels like some kind of joke? You're so proud of it, too, like 'Ooh, look at me, Ciel Phantomhive Lite.' It's like you want his cred soooo badly, but you just can't be that cool?"

"I don't need his status. I'm powerful in my own right."

"Sure… Whatever you say, two-eyes… That's why you're so obsessed with him, right? Stay away from my man, you hussy. He's a married and you're just not his type."

"That's right, I'm not." Johnathan huffed, wrinkling his nose. "For whatever reason, the Earl has decided that he is into loudmouthed, blonde, sluts with a few screws loose."

"The 'slut' was uncalled for. I'm faithful, you know. Or is this that thing where someone doesn't like you back, so you have to insult them? I'm sorry, but just because you have a his genes, doesn't make you instantly as cute, big boy. I like my men to have a few scars and like, actual hobbies and problems."

Johnathan's eyes narrowed at that last bit. "What are you trying to say, Macken?"

"I'm saying that you're a fucking drama queen, dipshit." Jim taunted. "You don't have any real problems, so you gotta make them up. You're not tough, so you've got to act like you're somebody who is. You're fake as fuck, Johnny-boy. You're just mad because I'm tougher than you, I'm more charming than you, and I have the one thing that you want: Ciel's attention. Pathetic, really."

A wicked grin crawled across the baronet's face as he saw Johnathan's whole being transform. The change wasn't a complete physical transformation. He did not grow horns or a tail, or any such thing. His face and his posture merely changed as a wave of genuine emotion washed over him. His brow furrowed and his eyes widened as his face morphed into a hideous snarl.

"It appears that you want me to actively torture you." the beast said, reaching out to touch the blonde's thigh as he looked down at him. Reaching behind the menace, he rubbed the blonde's hamstrings, all while a twisted smirk appeared across his face. "Tell me, can you tell the difference between our hands? They're the exact same, aren't they? Surely, Ciel wouldn't mind, after all, we're the same, physically, at the very least."

All at once, Jim's smile fell. He looked up at the other demon with a frown, but there wasn't any trace of fear in his eyes. There was only disgust. Jim knew that he should be afraid and had it been any other situation, he might have been. Yet, the fact that this THING would dare touch him was an insult, if anything.

"Of course I can." Jim stated. "Ciel's not some virgin who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He's more of a man than you'll ever be, so if you think I'm worried about you, you're gonna be sorely mistaken. Quite frankly, I don't even think you can get it up without looking in a mirror." Then, with a pause, the blonde lowered his voice to a whisper. "Besides, I know you're worried about what I'll do if you push me too far."

Frowning, the impostor snarled at the menace and removed his hand before walking around the man so that he stood right in front of him. Crouching down, he met the blonde's gaze, so that both of them were staring back at a pair of blue eyes. Reaching out, he tightly grabbed onto a fistful of blonde hair and shook the menace about a bit.

"You seem to really want me to kill you..." Johnathan observed. "I know you've been captured before… Last time, annoying the enemy until they let you go didn't work, so why do you assume that it's going to work this time? You're right, though. I'm not Ciel. I'm not going to grant you any sort of special treatment while you're here. Honestly… How on earth could he have such a soft spot for such an irritating little stain like you? A worthless commoner who prances around, putting on a Robinhood act to hide the fact that he's got something seriously wrong with him… Nobody can take a beating like that and laugh about it… What is it? You've dragged me along this long, so go ahead and tell me."

"You're overthinking it." the menace replied. "I never hide the fact that I'm fucked up. Ciel and I are just cut from a similar cloth, that's all. Everyone's got issues, especially in this line of business. Nothing more, nothing less. The more you try to think about it, the less answers you're going to come up with. Sometimes, it just isn't that deep, two-eyes."

Johnathan's eyes narrowed at that. There was a flicker of something inside of them. He hated it. It was like something was crawling around his insides and it made him feel sick. It made him angry. Letting go of the blonde's hair, he stood and lifted his leg. Harshly, he stomped on Jim's face with a loud _snap_, forcing the Phantomhive's entire body to swing backwards like a pendulum. Blood spattered across the floor as it poured from Jim's broken nose, coating the ground as he swung back and again when he swung forward, only to be stopped by Johnathan's outstretched palm.

"I don't know what kind of trick you're trying to pull, but you won't be for much longer." he said, walking while talking. ""We're the same...' You're not the same. Lord Ciel Phantomhive is a completely different animal to you or I, and that's that. He is a noble beast who's power and might struck fear in to the hearts of men and monsters alike from the mere mention of his name. He slaughtered countless without mercy or consideration, wandering from battlefield to battlefield in search of the next conquest." Putting down the crowbar, he looked over the various instruments on the table before turning on the gas-powered stove on the table and lighting the flame.

"You, Macken, are keeping him from returning to his full potential and I simply cannot allow that. You will be kept alive, yes, but only so long as you are able to help me reignite that fire inside of him that was able to lay entire villages to ash." Johnathan said, picking up the next instrument he would use on the menace. "I want to see him light the world on fire and then I want to be the one to snuff it out."

Upon seeing the object in his foe's hand, the menace finally frowned, furrowing his brow as fear bubbled up from within his chest. Yet, he could only allow himself to express his disapproval when the brute's back was turned. Showing signs of fear or distress would only make this sweeter for Johnathan. It would be playing right into his hands. But the fear Jim felt was not for himself. It did not matter to him what Johnathan did because he knew that he could heal any physical wound that his enemy could give him. The mind, however, was a different story.

Ciel received a text.

The sound of his phone vibrating in his pocket echoed in the catacombs, causing poor Damien to jump at the sudden noise. The warlock had dozed off for a moment and instinctively reached for his belt as his eyes strained in the darkness to find the enemy. There was no one. Only Ciel was there, his face illuminated by the screen of his mobile as he stood with his back to the other man.

He was silent, failing to reassure the warlock or even acknowledge him as he motionlessly stared at the device. His stillness was unnerving, but Ciel himself was unnerved—No, that was incorrect. His feelings were incomprehensible to him, but familiar, flooding his entire body as every muscle tensed and every hair stood on end. The bluenette's teeth were grit and bared as his brow furrowed, creating deep lines on his face as he snarled at the device. His hand hung at his side—limply at first, but then clenched, digging his blackened nails into his palm as his joints cracked and creaked. His eye began a deep blue until he saw nothing but red as the image in front of him burned into his mind, causing his psyche to writhe in agony.

Johnathan was standing next to his husband, you see. The blonde was strung up and bound with chains. He was beaten, cut, and shot, with blood, bruises, and healing scars riddling his body. That wasn't what Ciel found so profoundly disquieting, however. That was expected. These were wounds that were typical for a mission like this and they were certainly nothing that Jim could not handle. Ciel knew that. He knew it well and he was assured by the knowledge that so long as his husband's injuries only went that deep, the menace would be alright, but one injury—one made the hardened Ciel Phantomhive voicelessly scream inside of his own head. Johnathan had burned Jim. He had branded him like cattle, forcing him to wear the honeybee insignia of the Honeycutt militia embedded in his flesh. Unable to unclench his fist, Ciel pressed it into his own mark through his clothes as it too, ached, trying to soothe it and hold back everything that came with it.

Ciel tried to be good. He tried to be reasonable, tried to be rational, tried to keep himself together, but it hurt. It hurt so badly. The memory the humiliation he felt at being branded as property struck through him like lightening, only for thoughts of how Jim must be feeling similarly to burn him as the shock instantaneously passed. How frightened must Jim feel? How helpless? Did it cause the nightmare of being property himself flood his senses too? Was he alright? Would he be alright?

How dare Johnathan do this?

Breathing heavily, the Phantomhive doubled over, bringing the device to his chest as he clutched as his wound. Unable to figure out where to run to, his legs simply decided to give up, dropping the man to his knees. He needed to run to Johnathan, but he couldn't. He needed to find him and tear him limb from limb, but he couldn't. Not now. Not like this.

"Lord Phantomhive!" Damien called out, standing up as he watched the light disappear. He could hear Ciel's ragged breathing. "Are you hurt?"

"Shut… Up..." Ciel's voice came out in a low growl that didn't quite sound like him. He let out a grunt. He was clearly in pain.

"But-"

_"__Shut. Up!"_ He growled with more force this time. _"Not. A. Word… __Quiet!__"_

Damien would die if he wasn't careful. Ciel recognised this feeling, now. He knew the way that it made his entire being felt like it was burning. The sadness he felt, the helplessness, the fear-It turned into a searing-hot rage that threatened to swallow him up if he didn't make haste. His body, mind, and heart were all yearning for the absolute domination and destruction of his enemy and everything that he had built.

Hate—It wanted him. It tempted him. It felt reasonable, justified… _good._

How easy would it be to destroy Johnathan? How easy would it be to crush him like a hapless ant that has threatened the cleanliness of Ciel's picnic? How dare he? How dare Johnathan Beattie harm the man he loved? How dare he torment him? How dare he brand him and mark him as his property? Ciel could destroy him. He could destroy him right at that very moment!

But at what cost? Paris? France? The people who lived there? What about England? How would their home country suffer if he were to level this city to the ground to get to Johnathan? What about Luka, Revy, Sebastian, and Finnian? What about Kristopherson, Daniel, Audrey, and Travis? They were supposed to go to Travis' wedding in a few months' time. What about Elizabeth? What about Integra, Rupert, and Geraldine? How would they respond to his betrayal?

What about Jim? There was no way that after all of that, Jim would welcome him with open arms. How could he? After betraying him in order to satisfy his own selfish ego? What sort of face would he make? Ciel could picture it. The image flashed into his mind. Jim was standing there, staring at him, wide-eyed with fear, only then it would shift into sadness. Tears would well up in his eyes as he realised that Ciel had thrown everything away in order to get revenge. Everything. Their country, their family, their friends, and him. Ciel would be throwing away Jim, the man he wanted to avenge in the first place. What satisfaction would Ciel derive from that?

Ciel lingered on the thought, clenching his eyes shut as he wanted to shake the image away. Both of them. He wanted to erase the image of Jim branded from reality and Jim's pained face of betrayal from his imagination. Why was it so hard? Why couldn't he stop? He wrestled with the ghost of his former self as it tried to possess him, whispering awful, evil things to him and making him want to harm Johnathan simply for the sake of harming him, suggesting all of the things he could do to make it happen. It hurt. Why did it hut so badly? After all of these years, Ciel thought it couldn't harm him. He thought that only the guilt of his actions could and that he could stop himself from ever feeling such seething resentment and yearning for blood ever again, but it couldn't. The brand on his ribcage throbbed as proof. He wanted it to stop. He just wanted it to stop. Making Johnathan suffer wouldn't make it, but in that moment, he believed it. He genuinely believed it might help.

But the image of Jim's face spoke reason to him. Ciel remembered that it would not help. It would only hurt. It would hurt far, far, worse than the hurt he felt right then. It wasn't fair. Ciel wanted Johnathan to pay, but then what about Jim? What would become of him? If they could not live together anymore, if Ciel could no longer hold him, and make him laugh—if he was no longer allowed to love him and if Jim no longer loved him back, what would become of their life together? Their happiness? Ciel did not want to let go of that. He was selfish. It wasn't fair. Becoming a monster was so tempting right then, but if he did, he could no longer love Jim.

Slowly, his breathing began to steady as the heat began to wane. His muscles relaxed slightly as slow, deep, breaths filled his lungs. The corner of his eye was a bit wet. When did that happen? He was able to wipe it away with the back of his hand as he still held on to the cellphone in his grip. The anger did not disappear completely, however. He still felt it. He was still outraged, but Jim held him back. The rest of their household, their friends, and their family did, too. So many people would be hurt if he crossed over again. He had already hurt some of them once, too. It wasn't fair of him to do so again. How could Ciel say he loved any of them if he could not put them above revenge? How could he say that he cared about any of them if he could throw them away completely in order to pursue a stupid, fleeting, whim? Was he so callous? Did he really not change at all? No. The bonds that he felt were real, even if he had never hoped for them at first. Even though he didn't want them initially, having his heart open to them like this… It hurt badly when it hurt, but there were so many wonderful things that he had discovered in doing so that were all worth it. Love was intense, like hate. It has the power to change a person, for better or for worse. When it was good, it felt good, when it was painful, it was painful, but Ciel had developed a strong preference for one over the other.

He grimaced, kicking himself for trying to let it go, but he knew it was for the best. That wasn't the person he wanted to be anymore. That wasn't the person he needed to be if he wanted to still love the people who loved him back. It was hard and it was incredibly painful, but ultimately, he knew that it was for the best. He knew where hatred led to. It wasn't where he wanted to be. It wasn't where he needed to be. God, he had gotten soft, but he knew better than anyone that there were worse things to be.

Shakily, he put his fist on the ground and pushed against it as he got his feet back underneath him. His heart still raced, but he stood up to face what laid ahead of him on two legs, not four. He would face Johnathan as a man and he would go home with the man he loved in order to resume their lives together. That, he was certain of.

"I'm sorry..." he said aloud. His voice was quiet now. There was a bit of a lump in his throat. "Damien..." he began, capturing the warlock's attention, "I shouldn't have snapped at you. Johnathan sent me a message just now."

The warlock hesitated to question just as Ciel hesitated to elaborate, but the apology somewhat emboldened him. "What did it say?" he asked. Ciel shook his head in the darkness, but Mister Chaput could not see it.

"He sent a photo of Jim." the Phantomhive said. "He's hurt pretty badly, so I was throwing a bit of a tantrum. I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. You've just caught me at a really bad time, is all. The mission is still on, though."

Eyes widening, the warlock sat there in silence for a moment, thinking about what that meant. If Jim was hurt badly, Ciel must mean very badly. It was the sort of "badly" that was hard for Damien to wrap his head around, but he tried his very best. He shivered. "What…" he asked. "What are we going to do? Are we going to go get him?"

"No." Ciel stated, holding up his phone. Staring at the image again, he looked at it with a clearer mind. It still made him angry. He was furious, yet he could see a detail that he couldn't before. Jim's face was missing from the image. It's just as well, as the Watchdog was not sure what he would do if he saw an expression of pain on his husband's face just then, but that was also interesting. Johnathan did not include Jim's face in the image. He had cropped it out before he sent it. That meant that Jim was probably not making a face that Johnathan liked. Knowing the menace, he might have even been smiling, trying to reassure Ciel that he was alright.

Ciel swiped at his eye with his fingers again, drying whatever threatened to collect there. "We will proceed as planned." he said, pushing a few buttons on the device. He held up his own camera and aimed it into the darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, my dear, sweet, duckies. How is everyone? I'm sleepy. It's a little past six... in the morning. It's bedtime, my dudes, but I HAD to finish this, y'know? I got in a groove and also, I have a massive paper due at the end of the week that's kind of a big deal, so I really HAD to finish this. I wanted it to be done so I wasn't thinking about it while I'm supposed to be writing other stuff! **

**It's a really big ass paper...**

**Send me ur prayers...**

**But, after that, I should be right back at it... Probably... I still have other stuff due lmao but it'll be fine. I'm not as worried about it as I am this. Now, if only my other teachers would post their FUCKING assignments instead of waiting until the day before their due so I can knock them out of the way, too, that would be great...**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	61. Disposables

Johnathan closed the door behind him, leaving the Phantomhive's blonde menace a bloodied and battered mess in the room behind him, along with his own underlings to guard him. Mister Beattie no longer had a use for any of them, other than making sure that the menace did not interfere. He had gotten what he wanted. While it was just a text message containing a photo that was too dark for anyone to actually see, it was so much more to Johnathan. Finally, at long last, he had Ciel's attention. The Watchdog was in the catacombs, waiting for him to come and fight.

A laugh bubbled up from within his throat as his cheeks strained against his smile. Reaching up, he covered his mouth, unused to the sensation of smiling genuinely. He paused, just standing there for a moment before finally turning his head. Caesar stood there, waiting on him to finally finish just as he had this whole time he had been tormenting Jim. He really did hate listening to the sound of the blonde getting struck with a crowbar and being burned by a brand, but he needed to wait and see if he was finally needed.

"Good news, sir?" Caesar questioned.

"Very. It's time, Caesar. Get the squad I put aside ready. I'm going after Phantomhive." Johnathan answered while walking, strutting down the hallway while the incubus followed.

"What about our 'escapee' situation?"

"We won't need this place much longer, anyway, so let them take it back. I'll be long gone by the time the military finally gets the order. Take the rest of the troops with you back to Namara. Arrangements are in my room in a briefcase underneath the bed."

"Will you be joining us once the Watchdog is dead?" Mister Merritt questioned, fumbling as the demon threw a set of keys at him. His eyes widened as Johnathan stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around to face him.

"Of course." the demon said with a smile. It didn't have the same light that it had before. Then, just as quickly as he stopped, he started walking again with his back to the incubus. Once again, Caesar did not know what was going on inside of the demon's head, but knew that whatever it was, he, too, needed to be thinking ahead.

Hugo stood up. Cautiously, he padded toward the door, placing a pointed ear against it to listen. The two women with him only watched him with arched brows—Annie lingered out of concern while Brittany very quickly turned her head to face the blonde Phantomhive again. She watched as blood dripped from the man's battered body before finally stopping as his wounds closed and he began to heal them. With the extent of his injuries, however, it proved to be a slow endevour, but even still, he did not utter a single moan or whimper. He was stoic, taking deep breaths as he pushed aside his aches and pains in favour of focusing his energy on regenerator.

"_What are you doing, Hugo?"_ Annie finally called out. The curiosity invoked by her compatriot's strange behaviour had finally gotten to her.

The orc did not answer, however. Instead, he quickly made his way over to the thick, glass, enclosure and stared at the demon encased inside. His brow was furrowed and his hands were on his hips. He tried his best to seem intimidating, but he wasn't really convincing, if one asked Jim. Still, it was an earnest effort.

"_Tell me what you know about Damien."_ the orc demanded, pointing a finger at his captive. "You said that he was still alive, right? Explain yourself!"

"I don't understand… a fucking word you're saying, Frenchie..." the menace somewhat weakly replied.

_"__Huh?"_ the orc asked, but before he could continue, Annie stood up.

_"__Hugo?"_ she called out._ "What are you talking about? What about Damien?"_

_"__When we were carrying him to the truck, he said that he's still alive!"_ Hugo explained. _"At least… I think… His French is really bad..."_

_"__Hugo, there's no way that's true. He's just trying to get to you. This whole time, he's been trying to provoke Mister Stark. Damien is dead, Hugo. He was killed by a rogue supernatural being while out for a walk. You know this."_

_ "__But why does he know who he is?" _Hugo questioned, pointing wildly at the menace._ "He knew his name! 'Damien Chaput!' Why would he know that?"_

"Damien Chaput?" Jim asked. "Oh, you're wanting to know about him! I did say that he's alive. He is. Johnathan sent him to find my husband."

"Quiet, demon… 'Macken'… Whatever your name is!" Annie replied. "I don't know who this 'Johnathan' person is, but Damien is dead! You're not going to fool us into thinking otherwise."

"It's 'Jim.' Sir Jim Phantomhive, husband of Lord Ciel Phantomhive, the Earl Phantomhive, and representative of the HELLSING Organisation. 'Macken' is my 'maiden' name, if you can call it that. I changed it when I got married. I'd appreciate it if you'd call my by my actual name, please." the demon rather politely stated. "'Johnathan' is the bloke who beating me up just now. 'Johnathan Beattie.' He used to work for us. Surely, you've noticed the accent, right? The bastard went rogue after some shit went down, tried to topple the British government in an attempt to get to fight his favourite one-sided rival and now he's trying to do the same thing in France."

"That's a ridiculous story and I think you know it." the woman sneered.

"It's even more ridiculous with all of the details put together, but the point is, your friend is alive, alright? He's in the city right now with Ciel, and as long as he stays out of the way, he'll be fine."

"What does he look like, then?"

"Oh… Brown hair… bit of a dangly tuft in the front… weird cross makeup over the eyes… lots of bling… cloak… that sort of thing?"

"And how do we know that you're not just trying to make us trust you so we'll let you out?" Annie folded her arms as she glared at the man, prompting Hugo to do the same despite not understanding a word. "What's your excuse, there?"

"I'm not trying to escape." Jim simply stated. "Same reason why I got captured, really. If I try to make a run for it, I'll only get as far as… oh… maybe a few hallways until I'm cut in half by a fuck-ton of bullets. Besides, if I'm not lying, I won't need to escape to begin with. The order will come through to release me and then all of you will receive the instruction to hunt down Johnathan instead. I know this because I escorted Minister Munier, one of the heads of your organisation, to the port where she would be able to cross the channel to safety herself. Johnathan had her captured so that she would keep granting him more power. It would've been impossible to carry out our mission without freeing her."

"And what 'mission' is that?"

"At first, it was just 'kill Johnathan,' but plans changed. HELLSING was asked by… what was it? 'Le Trois Ministeries?' By The Three Ministers, themselves, to remove him from power so that ORSAP can be under the full control of the French government once again. That is why I'm here. That's also why I know that once he's left the building? I'm not in too terribly much danger. Why would I resist now?"

Annie paused for a moment and took all of that in. "Excuse me for a moment." She said before ushering Hugo off to the side and explaining the situation to him.

The pair stood there, huddled together for quite some time, rapidly speaking in French as the menace patiently waited on them. His eyes wandered around the room as he uttered yet another, deep sigh. His gaze eventually landed on Brittany and instantly, he recognised not only her, but that she had gone through a lot since he last saw her.

"You've been really dragged through the wringer, haven't you, Brittany?" he asked, capturing the attention of both women. Annie turned her head to look at the younger woman as Brittany's posture stiffened, her eyes trying not to look directly at the Phantomhive.

"That isn't the business of a captive." the werewolf curtly replied.

"True. It was just an observation. I hate to see that, though."

"I don't need your pity." Finally, she looked up at the demon with a snarl, only for him to have a strangely neutral expression on his face. The blankness that was there melted her own expression, somehow, and she regained her composure.

"It's not pity." Jim replied. "It's empathy. It's not my business or my right to pry, so I'm not gonna. You got to do what you think is the best thing to do in order to get by. I get it. That's just how it is, sometimes."

"Yeah, like the hero of Gehenna could ever understand..." the young woman said with folded arms, only for her brows to furrow as Jim began to laugh.

"Oh… Oof..." he coughed. "Ugh… My ribs keep moving in and out of place… I hate that..."

"What's so bloody funny?" the woman demanded, standing up with fists clenched at her sides. She did not yell, but she spoke with force. "Stop trying to get a rise out of people! It's not going to work!"

"Relax, I'm not laughing at you, kiddo." the man stated. "I get why you'd think that about me, is all. It's also kind of fucked up? Ah… It's hard to explain… Most people don't want their tragic backstories to be public, is the thing. I don't even really talk about it to my friends, even though they're kinda in the know… I don't get what it's like to be in your specific circumstance, so you're right on that. I like that people don't know, but it's kind of fucked up that they don't. It's like: 'here I am, the perfect hero! Here to help you!' and people believe it, but I don't feel that way at all, sometimes."

"What are you talking about?" Annie asked. "What 'hero?'"

Now Brittany had done it. Johnathan would be mad if she spoke up again. He had eyes everywhere, so if she were caught talking too much about people who knew him, she could get in trouble again. She did not want that to happen. Her body became stiff and her eyes became unfocused as she wordlessly sat down, remembering what happened to her last time she talked.

"I'm kind of a big deal back home." Jim somewhat bashfully chuckled. "I said I'm a HELLSING agent, but my usual, day-to-day work is representing the two supernatural towns in England, Gehenna and Pyestock. It feels kind of stuck up to say, but the community has sort of taken a liking to me, I guess? Well… That professional version, I guess. In reality, I'm just a poor orphan who got caught up in some really bad shit as a kid and somehow managed to work my way up and turn out in the right place."

"What kind of 'bad shit?' Gangs?" Annie asked before hesitating. "Drugs?"

"Nah… If it were gangs, I would've probably would've had things easier, but that's not the sort of person I want to be, so I'm kind of glad it didn't turn out that way. If it were drugs, though? Eh… I might've ended up in the same place, only with more opportunities for death? I was a kid in the Victorian Era. It was a different time, then, so dying in the gutters was a bit easier."

"Hmm… Mine was drugs, at first." the woman answered, trying to gain the man's trust a bit. They had gotten far, far, off track, but something told her that it was worth looking into. If he could tell the truth here, he could tell the truth about Damien, easily. "I was in college to be a teacher, but then my boyfriend got me hooked. Started small, but… I ended up dropping out and needing money… Boyfriend had a solution, though..."

"Oh..." the demon nodded. "Say no more."

"You know where I'm going?"

"Already went there. Don't want to revisit. Sorry. I'll be real with you, but only so real. I don't don't know all of you like that."

"Did stuff you weren't proud of?"

"Calling that an 'understatement' would be an understatement." Now the demon was annoyed. There was a curtness to his tone that was unmistakable. It wasn't there while he was talking to Johnathan and that made the woman curious.

"So how do I know a hardened criminal like you isn't lying about where Damien is?" she asked. "Or about Mister Stark? If you're telling the truth, that's exactly a reason why I shouldn't trust you."

"Alright, I'll confess. I used my position as a slave in order to con my way into an Earldom once. He touted me around as his long lost son, so I killed him to take his power. I'm a bonafide con man. You caught me. Good job."

"Then Damien is dead."

"He's fucking alive. Jesus Christ, you're so bad at this! Listen, lady, I get that you're concerned for your friend. I really do. I'm not exactly fucking pleased that my husband is about to be chased around by a fucking bargain bin version of himself with a massive rage boner. Why the fuck would I lie? What's my shitty past got to do with it? You're trying to catch me in a lie that doesn't exist because of what? I could say the same shit about you, couldn't I? I could go on and on all fucking day about how someone training to become a teacher shouldn't have been so dull as to cave to peer pressure from their boyfriend and do drugs. I could rag on you for all of the illegal shit you did. Hell, you're a fucking mercenary who kills people right fucking now. Oh, but that doesn't count, does it?"

"What is your point?"

"What is YOUR point? Listen, toots, everyone here has a shitty past. Everybody! I can see it in your eyes, the way you stand… all of it! Sometimes, people fuck up and get caught up in bullshit. Sometimes, bullshit happens just because it fucking happens and there's nothing anybody could have done to stop it."

That resonated a bit with the two women. It struck them and shook their cores as everything that had happened to them fit into that so cleanly. They already believed that, but it was somewhat of a relief to hear it from someone else. Brittany, especially, being so young and knowing who Jim was? It hit her hard.

"That… That doesn't undermine the fact that you were a con man." Annie replied. "How do we know that you've made a miraculous turn around since then, eh? How can I trust that you are not trying to con your way out of here right now? You say you're not, but how can I believe that?"

"Shut up!" Jim barked, catching Brittany off guard while Annie only furrowed her brow harder. "You know something? People like you kind of piss me off... You're somebody who could've been something without ever to go through any kind of shit, but here you are, lecturing me about what I am… You made your choices. You made mistakes, love. Mistakes. Mistakes that got bigger than you thought they ever could and now you're in over your fucking head. I never made any mistakes at all. I was just unlucky."

Annie took exception to that. "Oh, so now I'm the idiot? Go on, mister perfect. Tell us what happened to make your life go downhill."

"My parents died." the man said. "I wasn't even ten yet. I was in the single digits when I was out on the streets, having to take care of my little brother by myself. I had to steal for both of us, because it's not like the villagers would help! They threw stones at us and spit at us! Children and adults alike would beat us and say horrible things to us! But that was okay. I still had my brother. The only person in the world that I loved and loved me. What could go wrong, huh? Then, he died, too. Gone. Leaving me alone. I ran when the Earl's men came. I knew that nice men offering food and shelter to kids was too good to be true, but I didn't run fast enough! They sold me to be a slave to some… bastard! Where was my choice in that, huh?! Oh, but I did do things. Terrible, terrible, things. Things you couldn't even imagine in your worst nightmares… Did I mention I hadn't even turned thirteen yet? Eleven years old, and having to choose between becoming the Earl's 'favourite' and dying of disease and fighting to the death for scraps in the basement. Wow. That was all on me, wasn't it? Totally my autonomous choice! No coercion there at all! Fuck you, you nosy bitch! I conned my way out of hell by the time I was thirteen and I was on top of the fucking world! Then I died, then I became a fucking demon, and then I didn't have to lie and cheat anymore! I could make an honest fucking living as a fucking mercenary! Fuck you! Fuck your stupid warlock friend! Fuck off!"

Jim was tired. While he was able to laugh off the pain to some extent, it still hurt. His muscles had to close the holes in his body, his bones had to fuse back into place, his organs had to stop bleeding, and he was exhausted. Keeping focused on the mission to that extent was not easy. It took up a lot of mental strength, and it took a toll on him. His body was tired, his mind was tired, and he still tried to help this bunch by reassuring them. He wanted to let the French know that their friend was alive and well and let Brittany know that she should probably go home to her parents, but being interrogated like this about deeply traumatic, private, matters was too far. It was the only time he got emotional during his entire time at ORSAP headquarters up until then and it was a lot to take in. The man was serious and if this bunch couldn't appreciate that, it was hopeless. He spit blood at the glass and just hung there, closing his eyes so he didn't have to look at them anymore.

But he did make an impact. Brittany thought he did, at least. For the first time in a long while, she felt her eyes getting wet. She sniffed, wiping her face as she looked down at her lap, wishing that her hair wasn't pulled back so she could hide behind it. She, too, did not want to took at him—rather, she did not want him to look at her. Now, despite there being a thick wall of bulletproof glass and iron bars, she felt like there was less of a barrier between them than before—before all of this. She thought it was too easy for him to tell her to go home back when they met at Buckingham Palace. She thought that he didn't understand, but he did. He understood it better than she did.

Annie had a bit of a different perspective, however. She was horrified. Trafficked herself, she was the daughter of a young child, herself. She had seen things that would make most horrified as well, but she looked at this man and tried to envision him as a child. How old was he when all of this began? Her daughter was under ten, herself, and Annie simply did not want to imagine her making those kinds of choices, let alone the choices that she made. How could something like this happen? That was too cruel. It was far too cruel for description. She wished she could have been there to protect him, but that was impossible. What's done had been done and that went for all of them. Then, Annie heard the young woman start to cry.

"Brittany?" Annie asked, moving toward the girl.

_"__What is it?" _Hugo urgently questioned. _"Why is everyone yelling and crying?!"_

_ "I'll tell you in a moment, Hugo."_

_ "Tell me now! I've been standing here this whole time, not knowing what's going on! I never know what's going on around here and I think I have a right to know! Is Damien alive or not?"_

Annie stopped as she stood over the younger woman, putting her hands on her shoulders. _"He says that he is."_ she stated, gesturing to the blonde._ "He's told us about himself and now Brittany is crying. I don't know why."_

Turning her attention to Brittany, Annie spoke gently to her. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I want to go home." the English girl weakly answered, her voice was wet as she began to sob. "I want my mum and dad… I don't want to be here anymore… I hate this…"

Annie didn't have an answer her. She barely knew her. In fact, this was the firs time they had ever spoken, really, so she hadn't any knowledge of what Brittany's home life was like or her general circumstance, so what could Annie tell her? She couldn't say with confidence that she could go home. She couldn't say with confidence that it would be alright, either, but she tried.

"Shh… Shh… It'll be alright… We'll get through this, alright?" turning her head back to Hugo, she tried to address him as well. "_I'm starting to believe him a bit. These two seem to have history? I don't know, Hugo. I don't know anything for sure."_

_ "__Tell me what he said."_ the man replied. "Maybe I could ask him something, too?"

_ "What could you say to him? He's unhinged! I don't even know what to say to him anymore, so I'm not sure what you could possibly come up with!"_

_ "__Just let me try..."_ the orc asked. "_Please… None of us should be in the dark anymore… We need to know what's out there and that means me too… Just… Explain it to me simple, okay?"_

The vampire looked to her comrade and then to the demon and back again, hesitating a bit. Her glance to Jim was more of a warning than anything, but he was not paying attention anymore. His eyes were closed and he could not understand them anyway. He just hung there, focusing on healing his wounds while shoving the thought of the battle that Johnathan was waging against his spouse to the side.

He was bombarded by the sound of the two speaking back and forth, unable to understand them as the sound mixed with Brittany's sobbing. He was angry, but that wasn't the younger woman's fault. Really, despite his own unease and agitation, he could, to some extent, understand her. Simply put, he didn't have the heart to just leave her like that, so with a heavy sigh, he finally spoke again.

"Hey, Brittany..." he called out, still not bothering to open his eyes. "If you really want to go home, I'll take you when this is all over… Well, I'll take you back to England and get you in touch with some people who can take you home."

"What?" the woman asked, sniffing as she looked up. "Why? I… I did all that stuff and-"

"You were a kid." the man said bluntly. "You made a wrong turn and did your best to try and stay afloat and make a name for yourself. If anybody's got a problem with that, then they can piss off."

Brittany still didn't seem convinced. Neither did either of the others, for that matter. They remained silent, trying to come up with a retort until Brittany argued against the man. "I helped Abhartach keep Gehenna hostage… And attack the palace… There's no way I can go back..."

"Don't go to Gehenna, then. Start with your house." Jim stated. "Unfortunately, a lot of people don't really understand how conflicts like these work and there's no getting around that, really. Everybody joins in the conflict for one reason or another. Some enlist out of patriotism, some just need money. Others just want to be a part of something big, but then there's the one who ran out of options. War is about money and power, but battles? Battles are about people. Ideas and ideologies clash or—psh-it's not even that deep all the time. Sometimes, it's just about making it another day. Other soldiers and agents don't always agree with me, but that's why I don't really hold anything against you—any of you. You didn't pick the fight. You didn't know what was going on up the chain. You still don't. That doesn't mean that you didn't do the things you did or that people have to forgive you for it. They've got to sort through those feelings themselves and you got to prove that you do things that might make them want to open their hearts to you. Still, you've got to try. Otherwise, it's hard to keep on living."

"It won't be the way it was..."

"It can never be the way it was."

"I don't want that."

"That's how it is, though." the demon explained. "I'm not going to promise you that everything will be fine. Looking at you, now, I can tell that you've gone through some shit and it's going to be with you for a long time. Even if you go home, you're going to be carrying it with you. That's how it is for everybody. Good thing is that there's ways you can sort of… push it to the back of your head so it's not always hanging out in your thoughts all the time. I've been working on it for a while, and most days, I feel pretty normal—well, as 'normal' as I'll ever be, but that's not the point. The point is, you don't have to feel this way all the time, forever. Sure, you'll have days where it'll come back to to the front and it'll really, really, suck real bad, but not always. A lot of days will be really good, but you've got to make the first move, Brittany. You've got a long, long, life to live and a lot of things to see and do. It's not too late for you to do it. You'll always know that people like me and people like Johnathan are out there. You can't go back to not knowing, but it won't be your fight to fight anymore. So go home. Board the ferry and go back to your mum and dad. Let HELLSING help you explain what happened and move on."

Brittany's tears returned anew, but they felt different. Instead of her making them while her body ached with sorrow, they were fat with relief. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him. Knowing what she did now and seeing him in this light—for what he was, rather than what she imagined him to be—she felt like she could. Jim did not hate her. He did not judge her. He told her exactly what she needed to hear and she was grateful for that.

"I don't want to fight anymore..." she said.

"Then when the time comes, you can stay behind. We'll come and get you." he answered. "I'd give you a pinky-promise, but I'm a little tied up right now."

Then, he turned his attention to the French group, Hugo and Annie. "Hey, vampire-lady?" he began. "I'm sorry about blowing up at you. That's just not the kind of stuff you ask people about, alright? You'll have to fix that if you're ever going to be a teacher. I don't think it's too late for you, either. Go back to school. I'm sure there's plenty of supernatural kids around here who could really use your help. When we get things going again, we'll be looking for someone for the job anyway."

Pausing, Annie glanced down at the floor. Her eyes lingered there as she considered the thought. She had to admit, it was a really nice one. While it wasn't exactly as she envisioned it, the vision the flashed across her mind wasn't terrible. If he was telling the truth and they could get things started, she felt like that would be a better use of her time, really. She was never in this schtick for anything but the money and the freedom, anyway.

"That sounds… nice." she stated, looking up. "I'd like that. You're still confident that you're getting out of here, though?"

"One-hundred percent positive." Jim winked, but then, the orc stepped forward, his chest puffed out and his fists clenched at his side. He looked determined to start something.

"_What about me?_" Hugo asked, prompting Annie to translate. _"What should I do? I've never not lived in the catacombs until now and I don't know how to read good like Annie. My head's all messed up, too… It's scary up here, but it's been scarier down there..."_

"Right… Damien told me about that…" the menace answered solemnly. "I'm sorry for your loss. It's tough to have a friend murdered, let alone seeing it and being a part of the party that did it. What Johnathan did was not okay and don't ever let him tell you different. Damien told me you've got a big heart and that's honestly a great quality to have. There's going to be a place for you, too, I promise. Back home, we have supernaturals doing all kinds of jobs. Some of them work in restaurants, they sell goods, make crafts, build things, tend to plants… All kinds of things. You'll find something you can do."

The things the menace said all sounded far too good to be true, but the group desperately wanted them to be. All of them had known for a long time that things were not going well, but what power did they have to change it? Once they were there, they were trapped, as they knew what happened to supernaturals who were not members of ORSAP—Who were not spared by Johnathan. The very idea of hoping for anything else was frightening because what if Jim really was lying? What if they got in trouble for professing that they wanted more? Even speaking to Jim so candidly could cost them their lives or their limbs, so their optimism was still cautious. They didn't know that Johnathan had abandoned them before they started talking.

He and his team had since gotten themselves battle-ready and mobilised, brandishing guns and bulletproof vests. They rolled down the street in an armoured truck, losing all sense of subtlety now that all was about to be revealed to ORSAP about Johnathan's deception, but more importantly than that, the deception did not matter anymore. He had found his target and not only that, Ciel himself had invited him to the fight! It was Ciel who gave away his location voluntarily! Johnathan did not have to find him! Johnathan was eager to challenge the Watchdog again. Everything he had done since the last time they engaged in combat was for this. Everything he had tirelessly worked for—all of the scheming, fundraising, and petty conflicts along the way were all for this and this alone.

He led his team down into the catacombs of Paris. The group watched out for the Phantomhive on all sides with their guns drawn and nightvision goggles over their eyes. Their boots delicately padded against the stone floor at first, but as the demon advanced, their footsteps became heavier as they struggled to keep up with him, trampling through puddles and being wary of of the uneven path. The sound of them moving echoed down the immense corridors, bouncing off of the stone and bone walls and warning all who were not involved in this fight of their presence. The squad jumped at every sound of footsteps fleeing the scene, thinking it was their target and not a group of unrelated supernaturals making their way to safety. Johnathan moved onward, however. He remained steady and certain as he tuned his senses on finding the Watchdog.

Johnathan led them deeper and deeper into the tunnels, wandering aimlessly and tirelessly. The city was fallinng asleep above them as the trains underneath it dodged the tunnels that they were traversing. Everyday people, unaware of their existence or the situation at hand carried on their ways home or to their night shift jobs, passing by the group of armed soldiers for hire like ships in the night. Then, Johnathan felt something further ahead. His heart fluttered at the familiar presence. It was him. It was the Earl.

"He's up ahead." he informed his group, every nerve of his standing on end as he peered into the ever expanding blackness. His cursed blood pumped faster throughout his body as he anxiously clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure of what to do with his hands in the excitement of the moment. Finally, he thought to put his hands on the handles of his pistols as they sat in his holsters.

"Phantomhive~!" he chimed. "Come on out~! I've come for a rematch and I'm not going to leave until I get it!"

But the Watchdog did not bark back. The only sounds that the demon was met with were the sounds of his own crew making their way down the corridor. Johnathan could still sense his foe, clear as day, yet there was no movement, no sound… nothing.

"I've worked very hard for this, you know!" Johnathan called out. "I've killed a lot of people and made entire governments dance in my hand for this. Aren't you special? Aren't you flattered? Or are you seething because I put my hands on that blonde slag of yours? Funny thing, really. Quite the stiff upper lip on that one. He only let out a scream when I branded him. I wonder if the smell of burning demon flesh is similar to humans."

Ciel did not answer. The Watchdog, no matter how much Johnathan goaded him, no matter how much effort Johnathan put into this meeting, stayed silent. Gripping the handles of his guns harder, Johnathan snarled. "Phantomhive! I know you're there! I can sense you! And I know you can sense me! Am I going to have to come to you?!"

"It's probably a trap, sir." one of the soldiers behind him said, jumping when the demon drew one of his guns and pointed it at him.

"I don't care if it's a trap or a tea party. We keep moving." he ordered, but as soon as he did, the sound of footsteps rapidly making their way down the tunnel could be heard growing ever louder. Whipping his head back to the front, Johnathan drew his other gun and took aim. The high calibur bullets that he fired chipped away stone and sent bone fragments from the morbid walls of the tunnel exploding into the air as the shape of the Watchdog proved to be quite nimble. His compatriots could not fire, though. The muzzle flash from the demon's pistols caused their vision to go white behind their goggles. They couldn't see well enough to not hit each other as the Phantomhive grew closer. Johnathan raised both of his guns, preparing for close-quarters combat as he saw the glint of Ciel's blade. He prepared to block, only for the man to drop down. Johnathan felt a gust of wind rush past him and his men screaming behind him.

Ciel aimed low so that he didn't have to cut through any bulletproof vests. He swung his sword, cutting through flesh and bone before stopping on the other side of the group. Bodies fell to the ground, but they were not dead. They were only missing their left legs as Ciel incapacitated that entire row of mercenaries down that side of the hallway. Raising his own pistol, Ciel opened fire on Johnathan without a moment of hesitation, taking off a piece of the demon's ear as he tilted his head just in time. The mercenary closest to him was not quite so lucky.

While the man was wearing a bulletproof vest, the rest of him wasn't bulletproof and Johnathan used him as a shield, allowing the Watchdog to spray him with red mist as the man in his grasp died. He was quickly thrown to the side as the Watchdog disappeared down a connecting corridor before any of the human mercenaries could see him.

"Let's go!" Johnathan called out as he started after the target, but the men did not follow after him. "What are you doing?! He's going to get away!?"

"Sir, he just wiped out half of our squad! We've got wounded to get out of here!"

"That is not my concern. If you don't drop those carcasses and follow the Watchdog, I won't protect you from what happens next. I have no use for pieces that don't fulfill their purpose." Johnathan glared, speaking quietly, but harshly. His eyes were wide and he bared his fangs as he spoke to the soldier. The man in front of him searched the demon's eyes for anything—any hint of empathy, but found nothing. "Make your choice."

The mercenary looked back at his men and then looked to Johnathan. He would leave these men to die like this, and would probably do the same if he were to be injured while Johnathan was chasing his target. What protection could this creature possibly give them? "Be seeing you, sir." he said, turning his back to the demon before crouching down to tend to the wounded.

"Fine." the demon hissed. "Fine by me. I'm going after the Watchdog and you can fend for yourselves!"

With that, he turned, leaving half of the group to die of their wounds and the other half for the French government to arrest at some point in the future. He knew that his network was crumbling around him and that the government was about to seize ORSAP from him. He knew that they would come looking for him as well but none of that mattered to him now. All that mattered was chasing the Watchdog down the darkened hallways of the catacombs and killing him. If he could have that, he did not care what happened to him next. He sent Caesar out of the country with the rest of Honeycutt as a failsafe, but that was far from his thoughts at that moment.

He had Ciel's signature in his sights. The man was just out of his grasp and Johnathan was determined to close that gap between them. His heart raced as he ran and his stomach was all aflutter. He ran as fast as he could, holding out his hands and pushing against the wall as he rounded a corner too quickly, running them along the skulls that adourned the tunnel as he picked up speed again. He felt like dancing but he had to keep running. He had to. He couldn't let the Watchdog slip through his fingers again.

His fingers twitched in anticipation for the cracking of bone. Johnathan yearned for the taste of iron as the Watchdog's fist collided with his face. The hallways would echo with the sound of gunfire and the smell of gunpowder and blood would permeate the small space. Johnathan would hear the sound of his enemy's blade slashing through the air in order to strike his neck. The darkness would be pierced by muzzle flashes, giving Johnathan a glimpse of the Watchdog's face. Would his brow be furrowed? Would his eyes be wide or narrowed in a glare? Maybe a look of intense concentration would cross his visage as they fought. Maybe, oh, maybe, it would be a look of fury, hatred, or contempt. The thought made Johnathan's hair stand on end.

"Phantomhive!" he called out. "Don't be a coward, now! Come and face me! You've come all the way here for me! Don't back out, now!"

A laugh bubbled up from within his throat as he sensed the man coming to a stop just a ways ahead of him. Finally! Finally, after all of this time! Johnathan struggled to come to a stop as he stood before the Watchdog, now alone together at long last in an open room. Unable to compose himself completely, a smile unwillingly formed on his face.

"There you are..."

* * *

**A/N: Hello~! I have returned! At long last! I have had a hankerin' for some demons...**

**I finished all of my schoolwork for now, is what happened lmao. I had a 20 page essay, a 15 page essay, two 2-3 page ones, one 5 page one, several discussion posts, and a drawing of a skull to do. I almost died...**

**I actually had this chapter almost finished, so I just finished it up and here we are. I skimmed it to see where we are and I'm not quite happy with it, but totally unwilling to go back and rework it. I want to move on! I want to write new things! There needs to be bloodshed!**

**Anyway, I hope you all still find it enjoyable. **

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	62. Beneath The Earth

The streets of Paris were still asleep—as asleep as they every could be. The typical sounds of a city at night time filled the air, but those who lived there were already accustomed to them and were unable to hear the sound of the fleet of ambulances rushing along the asphalt. A young man stood on the sidewalk, listening for them before waving them down once they were in sight.

He was smartly dressed in a collared shirt tucked into his trousers and seemed like the trustworthy sort. A good samaritan who was eager to help the police and the paramedics find their way. As the vehicles came to a stop, the man quickly pointed at the door to the catacombs, pointing them in the right direction as they filed out of their cars and their trucks.

"Quickly! They're down there! I can't remember how far! They're wounded! Many of them! Come quickly!" the young man shouted, directing the police down the stairs with their flashlights and batons. A few paramedics followed with their kit, but it would only help slow the loss of blood until the group of mercenaries could be dragged out and escorted to a hospital. Some, Ciel only cut, while others had their leg completely cut off. It was a race against time as neither of them had long until they bled out completely. The scent of blood would surely attract vampires, but the group could hold them off as they hurriedly dragged their wounded comrades along the tunnel, leaving a long trail behind them.

Damien had done all he could do. He could have tried to heal the group with his magic, but his powers were weak and unrefined. He would probably do more harm than good and he knew that. Some things were best left to the professionals. Putting his hands in his pockets, he unfastened a jar and stuck his fingers inside of it, waiting for the police to be distracted for a moment so that he could smear it on his face.

The moment the police officer who was interrogating him turned around, he was gone. It was as though he had completely vanished into thin air. The officer turned his head around and around, but couldn't catch a glimpse of the man who had been standing in front of him. The only living soul apart from the other emergency responders was a cat without a tail running down the street.

He had a lot of ground to cover and very little time to do it in. Damien ran as fast as his tiny kitty cat legs would take him, making his way back to the car that they had arrived in the country in. It wasn't the safest move, but getting stopped in a stolen vehicle was just about as bad.

The warlock's nerves were a wreck, causing him to squeeze the steering wheel in a death grip as every single shadow seemed like something that would pop out and get him. People in their apartments or in bars or wherever else they were had no idea what was happening below them as they carried about their business. The world was at peace, it seemed, with everyone only worrying about their own individual problems. Wondering if they would be called in for a job interview the next day, wondering what to get their mother for her birthday, worried about whether the person sleeping next to them was secretly seeing other people, worried that they won't get accepted into the school of their choice—all ordinary matters that could make one feel like the world was ending, but beneath them were two titans engaged in bloody conflict.

In a dark, somewhat open room beneath the streets, the two foes met face to face. Support beams held up a high ceiling and spray paint murals and tags covered the walls. Broken bottles and discarded cigarettes were scattered about the concrete floor as the final evidence of the hooliganism that undoubtedly occurred there, but none of that mischief would ever measure up to the immensity of this moment. No graffiti or underage drinking, no drugs or breaking curfew would ever be the same as murder and that was precisely what was going to occur. One of the demons would die that night, but both of their blood would be spattered all over the walls and floor. Johnathan could envision it.

A lone light was switched on, illuminating half of their faces. Johnathan smiled at Ciel as he watched the man staring at him, but it wasn't with quite the intensity he desired. Ciel was clearly angry, yes. The deep scowl on his face and the daggers he glared at Johnathan were certainly indicative of that, but hate? Where was it?

"There you are..." Johnathan breathed. "It's really you. I must say, 'My lord,' it's genuinely pleasant to see you again… I missed you, but I endured and here I am, alive and well with a new body and a new style. Tell me, 'brother dearest,' how do I look?"

"Well, I suppose one of us has to have some class." retorted the Watchdog, prompting the other demon to scoff and then laugh.

"Oh, you..." the demon said with a wag of his finger. "You kidder… Always putting on a strong front. Your husband was the same way. But I know what you really think, Ciel. I can see it in your eye. You're more than a bit cross with me, aren't you? I can see it in your eye. You're furious with me for branding your husband, aren't you? You want to punish me for it—for laying a hand on him and marking him with the signature of my outfit… It's an awful thing, isn't it? To be branded as the property of someone else? To be claimed as theirs against your wishes? Yes… Jim certainly did put up a strong front for you… You would've been proud, wouldn't you, Ciel? Such a profound sense of dignity that one has… for a whore."

The leather grip of Ciel's sword handle squeaked as his grip tightened. The thought that Johnathan could do something more to Jim was something he had pushed out of his thoughts. It was too horrible. It was far more horrible than branding. The implication made the Watchdog seethe. The love he had for the menace in his heart and the fear of harm coming to him boiled over into pure rage at seeing this creature in front of him and listening to his words—fighting words. Johnathan was trying to rile Ciel up and although the Phantomhive was painfully aware of it, he was only human.

"Now, Mister Beattie..." Ciel replied, lifting his blade and examining it casually. "I can only imagine the sorts of things my husband must have said to you, but in this situation, I do believe that a bit of leniency is appropriate. As for you, however, I would kindly appreciate it if you would not speak ill of him, as you are indeed the one in the wrong."

"You're shaking with anger."

"What of it?"

"Oh, come now, Ciel… That's no fun at all!" the demon scoffed, turning and beginning to pace from side to side. "You musn't play coy. I've stolen your face and your husband… I've put the safety of two countries in jeopardy. You're furious! Absolutely livid! And you're going to stand there and deny it? Why, that isn't even a good lie! You're better than this! A criminal mastermind! Surely, you can lie properly?"

"You've misjudged me, Mister Beattie. I am no criminal mastermind—just a man who does his work and does it well. Then I go back home to my family, balancing family life with the family business with relative ease, I'd say. You're the one who has built me up into this… whatever it is, you see me as. I am only a man, Mister Beattie—A gentleman, but a man, nonetheless. I will kill you, but not because I hate you. It's because I ought to, Johnathan. It's my duty."

"Liar." accused the demon. "You're lying. You didn't like being called a lousy liar and now you're showing off! I don't believe you for a single second, Phantomhive. 'Just a man?' What utter rubbish. The criminal underworld once quivered at your very name. You terrorised armies and slaughtered countless. Even your own were frightened to be near you."

"Times change."

"People don't, Lord Phantomhive. People don't change. They simply adopt the persona that is most suited to them in that moment—I, the dutiful ally to the French, and you, the loving family man. It's a farce, Ciel. It's all a farce and you know it. The bureaucracy doesn't care for the people they serve and these soldiers? All they care about is who can pay their paychecks! Even Munier cared more about who own reputation than her duty to her country, so don't talk to me about patriotism and duty. I know it's a sham and I'm sick to death of lies." Johnathan paused, facing the Watchdog again. "I want to see something real, Ciel."

"Oh? And making me angry will do that for you, will it?" The two slowly moved to the side, circling one another without ever breaking their gaze—like a pair of beasts sizing one another up. "'Something real...' Like how your ambition for revenge was 'real?' Your vow to avenge Heinrich? Do you even remember it? Or have you been so caught up in your pursuit that you've forgotten the original sin that led us here?"

"I don't-" Johnathan paused, thinking about it for a moment, but shaking it off as nothing came to mind. Nothing but glimpses of a man called "Heinrich" who looked after him when he worked with HELLSING. "I don't care about any of that. That man means nothing to me. He was just an over-glorified babysitter. It's you I care about. Only you."

"You what?" Ciel gave the other demon a once over to see if he was lying. Then again, it was somewhat of a fruitless endeavour when it came to their kind. "That man worked with your father. He was like a family to you."

"And?"

"That man loved you."

"A mistake." The two of them stopped. "I hate that word… It's a word of weakness. It holds people back, like a collar and leash. You've limited yourself, Ciel. I'm just trying to help you reach your full potential."

"So you can snuff me out?"

"You said it yourself. 'Burn everything until nothing is left but ash.' I want to see that. I want for nothing more. Nothing. Did you draw me underground to minimise the damage, Ciel? Must you go so far out of your way to deny me?"

"You're pathetic."

"And you're weak!" Drawing one of his pistols, Johnathan fired the weapon, hurling a bullet toward the Phantomhive, only for the man to deflect its trajectory with a flick of his blade. Sparks flew through the dark as metal collided. Johnathan kept firing and Ciel kept dodging and deflecting before moving behind a concrete support beam for some cover.

"Give me something more!" Johnathan shouted. "Don't you know better than to bring a sword to a gunfight, Ciel?!" The large bullets took out small chunks in the beam or simply embedded themselves into the stone. Next thing Johnathan knew, bullets started firing back at him from behind the beam. The explosions echoed through the tunnels, bouncing against their ears and warning other people that there was a fight going down.

Leaping to the side, Johnathan rolled as dirt flew upwards. He got knicked by a few of Ciel's bullets, but made it to his own support beam for cover. All was quiet again as the two decided against wasting their bullets. It was a stalemate, it seemed, and neither of them had anywhere to go. They were deep underground with the only exits being somewhere through the narrow, labyrinthine, tunnels. There would be nowhere to dodge or run to if either of them got caught down there. Ciel already had a hole in him, just making it to this room. Rapidly, his mind fired off with ways he could somehow kill his opponent, but nothing stood out to him as a particularly smart idea. He was trapped, but so was Johnathan. The only difference was that Ciel had something to lose.

Footsteps. Johnathan was moving. Ciel put an arm around the corner and fired, missing the other demon as he leapt behind another pillar. Before Johnathan could get right on his feet, Ciel moved as well, taking cover just as Johnathan stuck out the barrel of his gun.

"I can go all night, Ciel!" Johnathan announced, checking his magazine. "You have my undivided attention!"

"Thanks, you can keep it." the Watchdog retorted under his breath, checking his own gun as well. He wanted to peek out from behind his pillar in the direction he sensed Johnathan, but knew that as soon as he did, he'd be shot. Pressing one hand on the floor and his shoulders against the pillar, the muscles in his legs tensed and shuffled him upright so that he now stood. He stared at the wall of graffiti at his front, observing a crude drawing of some kind of monster with some incomprehensible graffiti writing around it.

"Johnathan." he said before calling out: "Johnathan!"

"Yes, brother?" replied the creature to his back.

"What is it about me that's so fascinating?" the Watchdog questioned. "You talk about passion and truth, but I still don't quite understand. Personally, I don't see myself the way you do anymore. Why make me carry that image? Why no one else?"

Silence. Ciel readjusted the grip on his gun as he listened intently for any sound. A hum, a grunt—anything. There was nothing there.

"You made me like this." Johnathan said.

"Because I killed you?"

"I don't remember that." the demon answered. "I don't remember being alive."

"You're alive, now, unfortunately."

"Am I? I suppose I am, aren't I? So, you've killed me twice already? I suppose third time's the charm, if you make it that far."

"Can you kill me?" Ciel questioned. "Could you? Or would that put a damper on your fun?"

"I suppose it would."

"What would you do if you succeeded? Kill my family? Destroy all of England?"

"No. There wouldn't be any point if you weren't around to see it. I would only do that to get under your skin."

"You're obsessed."

"Your husband said the same thing. Personally, I think I'm only 'intrigued.' Surely, I can think of something to do afterward. Surely." That last bit sounded uncertain.

Ciel ran to another pillar while his foe was distracted, causing a delay in Johnathan's firing. He wasn't able to pull the trigger before the Phantomhive was behind cover again. A chuckle bubbled up from Johnathan's throat before it turned into full-on laughter.

"You distracted me! Really sneaky, Ciel. You're a slick bastard, you know that? For all that talk of honour and duty, you're never afraid to fight dirty, are you?"

"You're the only one under the impression that this is a duel." the Phantomhive stated. "For me, it is merely a job like any other. I'd like to go home sometime in the next few hours, if you don't mind."

More silence. The air in the room seemed to change. It was cool where Ciel stood—practically freezing, but a humid heat emitted from Johnathan's side of the room. Then, it would cool down. Then, it would heat back up.

"I don't believe you." Johnathan replied, shaking his head. "You're trying to fool me again and it won't work! I can see through you, now! You're trying to rile me up so I make a mistake. Very clever, my lord, but I'm not stupid!"

"You're delusional, that's what you are. All of this effort, just to get me here, and for what? What did you hope to see? 'Passion?' 'Something real?' It makes no sense! You've gone through all of this trouble, just to waste my time with nonsense, Johnathan! Or is it 'Emil,' now? To reference what you see us as? The name means 'rival,' doesn't it?"

"Caesar picked it out."

"Caesar's mocking you, too. You are not my rival. You're barely even a copy. You're just a thing for me to kill. You're the monster of the week. Nothing more."

"After everything I've done to you?! Ha! I find that hard to believe!" Johnathan scoffed, throwing his head back. "I tortured and branded your spouse! I've undermined the monarchy that gave your family it's power in the first place! I've put your home country at risk and your country's historical rival in a position where they could go to war! I've stolen your father's remains and tried to clone him! I've even stolen your flesh and blood! I am not merely wearing your appearance, Ciel! I have your blood running through my veins! I have taken everything precious to you and mocked you with it! You're furious, aren't you?! You're absolutely livid and you have the guts to lie about it?! Ha! It isn't even a good lie!"

"...Annoying."

Johnathan paused. "What?"

"I said you're annoying." Ciel stated. "Just die already. I'm tired and want to go home. You did this before, too… Prattling on about some perceived rivalry that exists only in your head. I have other things to do, you know. I want to go home."

The grip on Johnathan's weapons tightened, bending the metal around the trigger guard as his hands shook. "What the hell?" he asked. "What the hell? What's that? Liar… That isn't—that can't be it..."

"What did you expect? Me to throw away everything I've built up for myself for you? I haven't even done that for my husband's sake, so why would I do it for you? Perhaps if you caught me over a hundred years ago, but my heart just isn't in this sort of pointless fighting anymore."

"Liar..."

"Say what you like. Believe what you like. People change."

"People can't change!"

"I have."

"Well, I-!" Johnathan cut himself off. Was he about to say that he hadn't changed? Had he? What would he have changed from? As he asked himself that question, the only answer he could come up with was that he simply didn't know. He didn't know who or what he was to start with, so he couldn't compare it to himself now. Who even was he, now? What did he have? Ciel. He had Ciel. But what else? What else was he? He owned a militia, but he only did that for Ciel. He undermined governments...for Ciel. He aided in winning a civil war overseas, but he only did it for Ciel. Who was he, beyond Ciel?

Shaking his head, he forced away the thought, realising that it was probably another ploy for the Watchdog to try and gain the upper hand again. He had to stay focused.

Sensing Johnathan to his back Ciel stared straight ahead at the wall. More wretched images of graffiti beasts stared back at him. He was trapped beneath the earth in seemingly unending darkness, surrounded by beasts. Ciel sensed them. He saw them, yet he did not recognise them. He was once one of them, yet he never truly belonged there. He lived the better part of his life entrenched in shadow, but mortal shadow, not this kind of darkness. There was nothing there. There was only him and the monsters in this gloom, and Johnathan was determined to force him to join them once and for all. Then, there would be something in the darkness to look forward to.

"You really can't change..." Ciel sighed. Holding out his hand in front of him, black fire sprouted form his palm, forming the sword that was tangled in his threads.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he called out to the darkness. "You waited all of this time and put in all of this work, so surely, you aren't just going to hide? If it's a fight you want, you're going to have to come and get it. I have little interest in this battle, so I'm afraid that I won't be coming to you." The Phantomhive slashed the air and turned his back to the wall. "I will show you what I really am, but don't you dare complain if it isn't as you imagined!"

* * *

**A/N: Interpret that as you will. There's a lot going on... They're just feeling each other out right now. **

**Uh... I don't really have much else to say? I want to update faster, but I can't stop thinking about OTHER ideas I have that it's hard to focus lmao. Dumb shit that doesn't even matter, BUT I WANT IT!**

**Eventually... I have so many ideas I wracked up from when I was focusing on school and it's driving me NUTS, my duckies... Holy shit I want to do dumb shit... Real dumb dumb shit...**

**Plot first, though. And it's not even that I'm not having fun with this. I am. It's just SO HARD not to do everything at once? I just want to like, go right for the good shit, and practising some restraint so that things are more satisfying is difficult... You'd think I'd be good at this by now!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	63. Legendary

Annie was in a very strange predicament. She was initially ordered to guard her prisoner, but as time passed and the man kept talking, she was having difficult knowing what to do. Everyone but that man, did, it seemed. She sat there, in her chair with her face in her hands, while Hugo sat leaning back with his arms crossed, staring at the ceiling. Occasionally, they'd both look up to check on things and everything would be just as it was moments before.

The demon would still be behind his bulletproof glass and iron bar enclosure, still hanging upside down from the ceiling and bound in chains. The blood on his restraints had dried and the pool underneath him had filtered down the drain in the center of his cage. His face was red from hanging upside down for so long, but he did not resist his restraints. Typically, the two ORSAP agents would find him merely hanging there with his eyes closed, although sometimes, Brittany would talk to him and they would converse calmly about this and that. He was already helping her come up with a plan for what she should do once she returns to England and quite frankly, Annie and Hugo were both too tired to deal with him any more. He was an exhausting fellow, he really was. Annie could concede that he was brilliant, but he was also brilliant at getting on people's nerves.

Hugo didn't trust Johnathan anymore and quite frankly, neither did Annie. At this point, they were actually hoping the menace was right and that the order to release him and pursue Johnathan would come, just so things would make more sense and seem less bleak.

They had thought that they had finally understood this world, now. They had thought that they had risen to the top and that they fully understood what they had gotten themselves into. It was their job, after all. It was their job to know, yet these British demons came along and ruined it. They supposed that they ought to be grateful for having their worlds expanded and for being shown the truth, but in that moment, all they could feel was overwhelmed.

They were spurred from their stupor with the opening of the door. They looked up to see a very surly Rigaud with a very deep frown. He did not looked pleased at all to be leading in some army official, judging by the man's uniform. The second man took off his hat and very sheepishly made his way into the room, although he did his very best to at least have the appearance that he was still in control.

_ "__Are you the ones in charge of guarding Sir Phantomhive?"_ the man asked after clearing his throat. The supernaturals looked at one another for a moment before nodding.

_"__Yes?"_ Hugo replied.

_ "__I'm here on orders from Minister Munier of the Ministry of Defense."_ the man informed. _"We have received orders to release Sir Phantomhive from custody. Worse, we are to instate Mister Beattie as a dangerous supernatural… and have Phantomhive lead the mission..._"

The group did nothing in response. They merely sat there for a moment, staring at the man in the official looking uniform.

_"__Well? Aren't you to going to follow orders?" _he demanded, finally prompting the group to will themselves into action.

_ "We already knew that was coming..." _Hugo answered as Annie got up out of her seat and walked over to the panel that unlocked the door.

She swiped her card and pressed a few buttons, prompting machinery to whirr and hiss. The glass door slid open, moving to the side and disappearing into the wall as the bars lowered, vanishing into the floor. Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight again, lightly slapping her cheeks in order to wake herself up.

"Everything happened just like you said, Sir Phantomhive." she informed. "Johnathan's wanted, you're free to go, and you're in charge of the mission to go get him..."

"Excellent." Jim grinned. "I should be healed up enough to sort of swing that. Luckily, I've already got people on it."

He began stretching and straining, prompting the woman to quickly shove her hands into her pockets and start digging around. "Great. I'll let you out." Annie patted her jacket pockets and started to unzip another compartment as the demon strained a little more. Then, she heard a loud clang and a rattle.

Jim sighed through his nose as the chains that bound his hands behind his back to his feet fell to the ground. He stretched his shoulders a bit before extending his fingers. His diabolical threads unweaved from his fingertips and slithered around, searching for the lock on his cuffs. To the absolute shock and horror of those looking on, the massive, metal restraints that locked his hands behind his back fell to the ground, making such a loud noise that it caused several of them to jump.

"That's better..." Jim let out, stretching his arms. His stiff limbs popped and cracked at the joints before the man grabbed the collar around his neck and tore it off of himself. With nothing else holding him back, he bent his knees and reached for the restraints that made him hang from the ceiling. He held onto the chain with one hand and undid the lock with the other, causing him to dangle for a moment, now upright as his legs fell.

The cat landed right on his feet, slicking his hair back out of his face with his hands as he stood upright again. Somehow, he managed to look dignified, even as he stood there before the group in his underwear. With that, he began to walk forward, prompting the others to take a step back.

He wasn't human, but he was on an entirely different level from the supernaturals in the room. Hugo was big and was stronger than the average human. Annie and Brittany were supernaturals that were fabled for their prowess, speed, and overall ability. Pierre was too, with a ferocity and savagery that was uncommon even for those of his kind. Jim, however, had power. There was a man whom they had captured, had seen be tortured brutally, and left restrained in thick chains and specially made equipment, only to bust out seemingly when it was convenient for him.

It was convenient for him. That is what shocked the group. All this time, while he was explaining to them the situation and getting angry when he wasn't believed, not only was he actually speaking the truth, he was so utterly correct that he had decided to wait it out instead of fight back. Then again, he wasn't powerful enough to fight through an entire base full of ORSAP agents, nor was he willing to enrage the French government by decimating their anti-freak response group before it could really get off the ground even if he could. The agents couldn't linger on that, however. They were too busy being focused on what they had just witnessed.

Jim saw their faces as they gawked at the ridiculous display and offered them a shrug. "Don't act so surprised..." he finally said. "I'm a pro, you know. That and there's just no way that was going to hold a demon that's determined to get out. I'm sure Johnathan knew that already, though."

The group lingered in silence for a moment longer as their minds struggled to catch up with them. Realising that one of them needed to speak, Annie did. "The-then… Why did you stay put?" she questioned, wanting to avert her eyes but finding herself completely unable to look away.

"Because even I would find it difficult to fight my way through a building with this many people, all armed to the teeth with anti-freak weapons all by myself. Besides, there's just no point when I knew the order was going to come eventually."

It was like a ripple effect had occurred and suddenly others were allowed to speak. "We'll get you something to wear right away, Sir." the military official said, drawing the demon's attention.

"Don't worry about that. I've got it covered." the menace replied, offering a smirk before bursting into flames. Hugo fell backwards out of his chair as he scrambled to get away from it. Although it was clearly fire, the flames did not emit any kind of light. Instead, it seemed to consume it.

Moments passed and the flames started to die down, revealing the demon's forearms, feet, and shins. He was clothed, now, as the fire began to uncover more and more of a black military uniform, reminiscent of the uniforms worn by a few supernatural agents at HELLSING. It had the high collar buttoned up like Seras, Charlotte, and Amelie, with the HELLSING crest on the right breast pocket. On his sleeves, however, were both the crest of the organisation he worked for and the house that he came from with the latter on top and the prior on bottom. He walked forward with boots that laced up his ankles as the fire linger around Jim's shoulders, burning slow and small before finally dying out completely.

His new compatriots, of course, were freshly terrified. In what felt like seconds, the ORSAP crew felt as though they had swapped out one terrifying demon for another. Worse, while compliance was typically enough for Johnathan, they had no idea what to expect from the absurd being in front of them.

"What?" the demon finally asked. "If you're going to fight supernaturals, you lot are going to have to get used to some weirdness. Don't worry, though. That's the most of it."

"Are you sure about that?" Annie finally demanded as a very confused and frightened orc who was way too big to hide behind her did his best to peek out from over her shoulder.

"Of course!" the demons said. "...Probably."

"'Probably?!'"

"You're lingering on details that don't matter. Instead of wasting any more time on this, we should prepare to deploy." the Phantomhive stated, stepping forward as he made his way to the door. "Get your gear ready. Oh, and someone show my to the garage. I need to know what vehicle we're taking. It's going to be a rough night, though, since we're probably going to be playing by ear a bit."

"What does that mean?"

Pausing in the doorway, Jim looked back at his new crew. "It means that I don't exactly know where we're going. I have a few possible leads, though, so it should be fine. We'll survive."

"Is that another 'probably?'"

"No, no… It's a 'definitely.'" Before he left, the blonde glanced at Rigaud and offered him a smile before leaving the room. Before they could carry out their search for the blue haired demons, he knew that something would have to be done about the professor. He was a liability, but he was also confident that he could take care of him rather easily. He just needed to figure out how before they took off.

He was confident in this and the fact that they would somehow manage to find his spouse in this massive city, under the earth in a pitch black maze of a tunnel system. He was confident in this just like he was confident that Ciel would be able to defeat Johnathan on his own if they didn't find him in time. The only thing that he was worried about was how the Watchdog would go about it.

Jim was more than aware that Ciel loved him and would be "upset" if anything were to happen to him, if one was to downplay the man's reaction completely. Jim knew that it would sadden his spouse to see him hurt, especially in a dehumanising way, but he also knew just how quickly that sadness could turn into anger. It would make him angry if the reverse had happened to Ciel of course, but Ciel was a man who was famous for his hate. That anger, should it consume him, could prove catastrophic for the bluenette's mental health, Jim knew. The fact that Johnathan branded the menace specifically was more than enough to convince the blonde that he was on the right track with his thinking.

Ciel's brand had always been a sore spot for him, but just as strongly, it was complicated. While he hadn't thought about it or been bothered by it in quite some time, having built trust with his spouse, Ciel wasn't exactly keen on showing it off. Even when their relationship took a turn for the more physically intimate, Ciel was reluctant to take off his shirt, ashamed of the mark and all of the other marks on his body. Yet, at the same time, they were important to him as momentos of his journey. They were him, his struggle, his past, and his present, but the brand was special. It was from the moment that his overwhelming fear and his crushing sorrow over losing his family and being sold like livestock turned to searing hatred, so intense that it ached for years after, even to the present day. It changed him. It warped him. It was the beginning of his descent into darkness and his vow to leave the world of daylight forever.

Over the years, the brand had taken on many meanings. It marked him as another person's property, it marked him for certain death, and it marked him as an alien in his native world of prunes and prisms when he had physically returned to it. Mentally, he never did. He was always "checked out" of that life in some ways, now having not just learned about, but experienced some of the atrocities that human beings could commit unto one another. Seeing it was affirmation that his hatred was true and that his revenge was necessary. It was fuel to his fire, but when his revenge was complete and the fire began to die, it was just a reminder of both his initial humiliation and how hollow revenge really was. The pain and humiliation was still there, but there was nothing that could have been done about it. Revenge hadn't made him feel any better. Now, his brand took on a slightly different role. It was his past, it was his present, and it was his future.

Everything that was and is Ciel Phantomhive is there. The beloved son-pure of heart and innocent to the ills of humanity; the evil Earl who stalked London's underworld and sought bloody revenge on those who had wronged him; the monstrous dog of war who was cursed to stalk the battlefield like a ghost—The beloved husband who was trying his hardest to make peace with himself and learn to be a good man. All of them made up Ciel Phantomhive. All of them were and are Ciel Phantomhive. For Ciel to lose all of that and start back in his darkest place scared Jim. He knew that Ciel seeing him be branded just like he was-knowing that Ciel knew full well what it felt like to be labeled as less than a person and knowing that Ciel was terrified of Jim having to experience that sort of dehumanisation again as well—could send him back there. It could send him back into the darkness and Jim was terrified that he wouldn't be able to resurface.

Ciel was indeed in darkness, fighting darkness itself. His blade clashed against the blades at the end of Johnathan's pistols, sending sparks that lit up the space between them. In a flash, their faces were visible. Ciel stared back at himself with grit teeth as Johnathan grinned, swinging his other arm and slashing at the Watchdog's stomach, forcing him to leap back.

They both took harsh, shallow breaths as they sized one another up again. Before, the catacombs smelled like dust, wet, and age, but now the two of them smelled iron in the air. Ciel wanted to end this. He took a step forward and so did Johnathan. They charged at one another, clashing again and again, with Ciel having to be twice as fast with his singular blade in order to match both of Johnathan's, but occasionally, he slipped, allowing the brute to slash him. He held his sword out, blocking the other demon. He held his sword there, pushing against Johnathan's guns before the impostor decided to try and sneak a blow to the stomach with his other gun. Ciel let go of his sword with one hand and grabbed Johnathan's wrist, struggling to point the weapon away from himself as Johnathan fought against him.

It seemed like these stand stills would never end. They just kept clashing and trapping each other in these impasses until one of them gave out or thought of a quick way to escape. They were starting to run thin on options, however. Ciel was, at least. The bayonet that was held back by Ciel's sword started to slide to the tip of it, creating a lever and making it harder for Ciel to keep him there. Johnathan kept putting more and more weight on this weakness, forcing Ciel to push harder and harder to no avail. He needed a dirty trick and he needed it fast.

Fine. If Johnathan wanted to push, then Ciel would let him.

The Watchdog let go of Johnathan's wrist and stepped to the side, allowing his opponent to fall forward and stumble to catch himself. In one swift motion, Ciel brought his sword across Johnathan's back, slicing through fabric and skin. Johnathan let out a yelp as he found his footing.

He turned around with a snarl, eyes aflame and teeth bared. He was met with only cold resistance. Again, he was not being given the passionate fight that he had been working toward. Johnathan put in months of preparation. He ran across Europe and Asia, searching for an opportunity to strike back. He helped a militia win a civil war and brought them back to Western Europe. He undermined the French government and threatened to plunge nations into war. He spent hours upon hours, days upon days, and months upon months, hard at work, getting into bloody combat and political struggles, all for the sake of fighting Ciel again. Yet, what did he get in return? The same cool demeanor as last time. There was no anger. There was no hatred. There was only mild annoyance, like Johnathan was a fly in the man's office. He was a nuisance. Unwanted. Worst of all, Ciel did not change.

The Watchdog fought harder, taking a few more risks and adapting his movements to suit the angle of attack that Johnathan was aiming for. Yet there was only the intensity of a regular battle. Ciel fought him like he would any other enemy that he had no investment in. He didn't fight like he was fighting _the_ Johnathan—the man who tortured his spouse and had done all of those things simply for the sake of fighting Ciel. Wasn't the Phantomhive unnerved? Wasn't he upset? Wasn't he angry?

"Come on!" Johnathan roared. "You can give me more than that! Let me see it! Let me see you! I came all the way back from the bloody dead to see you; You in your prime! Where is it, Ciel?! Show me!"

He swung faster and advanced more aggressively, trying to spark something—anything in the Watchdog. All he wanted was a flicker. A spark was good enough! Something! Anything! Johnathan swung at him, but only slashed the air. He hated it! He hated this feeling in his chest. It wasn't a flame, but a bubbling mess that boiled over.

"That's your problem, I'm afraid." Ciel replied, dodging the other man's attacks. "I didn't tell you to put in all of that work. Did you really expect me to put in the same level of intensity for no reason? You're just far more invested than I am. That's all it is."

"No!" Johnathan barked. "No! That's a lie! You're a legend! You're a monster! A monster like me!"

"I'm not and you're disappointed by that."

"Why can't you just fight me?!"

"I am."

"Fight me seriously! Be angry at me! Hate me! I hurt your husband! I threatened your home! I did all of this and you still don't-?! Ugh! Just! Give me something! Anything! You're-! You're just-!"

"I'm all you have."

Johnathan stopped in his tracks. His eyes went wide, yet saw nothing in front of him. His body froze. His mouth went dry. His body completely and utterly refused to move as he took in that information. A trance came over him as he dwelled on what that had meant. Yet the sound of Ciel's sword cutting through the air snapped him awake. He moved just in time to avoid the man's attack, but he didn't land on his feet. Instead, he stumbled and rolled. Landing on his rear, he struggled to get up in time for the Watchdog to come after him, earning him another slash.

Johnathan let out another yelp before moving one of his blades to block the next swing. Sparks flew when they collided again, but this time, Johnathan's mind felt cloudy. It was hard to focus, but as he looked into the Phantomhive's single eye, he felt something.

"You..." Johnathan grunted. "You… You're..."

"...All you have, Johnathan." Ciel concluded. "All this time, you've been working toward fighting me. You came back to fight me. You undermined the government to fight me. You ended a civil war, threatened to plunge the world into more war, tortured my spouse, and then threw everything you built away just so you could fight me… What else is there, Johnathan? Does anything bring you joy? Do you feel happiness apart from when you think I might be near? Do you feel anger? Fear? Or is it all tied into me, Johnathan?"

The impostor snarled and bared his fangs, his eyes wide and angry and his brow furrowed. It was like his human mask slipped for a moment, revealing just a glimpse of something else underneath. Still, the Watchdog continued.

"What are you, Johnathan?"

A growl bubbled in the other demon's throat and trickled past his lips, growing louder until he couldn't contain it anymore. Throwing one of his guns aside, he reached up and gripped the Phantomhive's throat and began charging, pushing him back with a roar until the man's back collided with a brick wall. The impact knocked the air out of Ciel's lungs, but he still kept his grip on his blade. It was beginning to fail, however, as Johnathan continued to roar.

"I'm Johnathan!" declared the demon. "I'm your nemesis!"

"No you're not..." Ciel choked out. Despite his predicament, he did his best to carry on his bluff, keeping his face as neutral as possible. "I don't recall ever getting a nemesis, and Jim is my rival, at the very least… So what are you? Are you anything?"

The Watchdog found himself being pulled forward and then violently slammed back into the wall. Dust and bits of stone sprinkled on top of them as the structure complained. The Phantomhive's hair was a mess as he was pelted by it, but still, he felt confident, even as the back of his head bled.

"I am Johnathan!" the demon roared. "I'm Johnathan Beattie! I'm going to kill you and then it will be my name that people remember. I'll be the one to defeat the legendary Ciel Phantomhive!"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but the title's already taken. How sad." The Watchdog winced as his open wound was slammed into the brick again, cracking the wall behind him. Grunting, he let out a small chuckle.

"You-!" the demon snarled, baring his fangs. "I'll kill you!"

"Can you? I don't think you can. If you do, then what will you do afterwards? Your entire unlife has been revolved around me. Can you come up with another ambition?"

"I'll—I'll think of something! I have a plan to go back to Namara!"

"Then what? What will you do?" The air in the room was cold as ice as the Phantomhive spoke to the demon. His gaze was relentless. It stared into his opponent's very soul. "What will you be? You can't even tell me who you are or who you were."

Johnathan's teeth were grit and his eyes were wide. His face contorted as he tried to menace the Watchdog, veins protruding from his forehead and everything. Yet, Ciel did not budge.

"Johnathan..." began the Phantomhive, "What was your father's name?"

The question came out of nowhere for the demon. He faltered as he immediately tried to come up with a retort, but the more the words marinated in his mind, the more he struggled to come up with an answer. The gears in his head turned rapidly as his mind tried to conjure an image. Whether it was the name spelled out or the face of the man in question, Johnathan didn't know. He searched his own mind for it, but couldn't even come up with a blur. There was nothing. He didn't know. He couldn't remember Victor Beattie. He couldn't remember having a father. All he could remember was Ciel in Krampus' dungeon, telling him his name was "Johnathan" all those years ago.

Ciel's eyes widened as he was pulled closer to the other demon as Johnathan emitted a piercing, inhuman, roar. Spit flew out of his mouth as the sound bashed against Ciel's eardrums. In an instant, he was launched forward, slamming into the wall again, but this time, it didn't stop him. The bricks gave way and he was pushed ever forward. His head spun and bled as he did his best to recover his rattling brain, only to be slammed into a concrete floor. Bricks fell on top of them both and the sound of murmuring and screaming was heard around him. Then, the two of them were in the light.

* * *

**A/N: Hello~! I'm still getting used to updating again... It's harder than I remember it being? Mostly, it's this arc, I think. I don't want to do all of the really cool stuff at once and there's other stuff I need to do first. So... Here we are.**

**What else... I've got nothing to talk about, really. **

**Johnathan's a dick. Jim's a badass. We know that already.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	64. Taking To Heart

The atmosphere in the armoured car was tense. It was tense since the moment Jim was locked in that room. No, maybe later. It was tense ever since the moment the group began to suspect Jim was right about the situation. Now that everything was true, Annie, Hugo, and Brittany had to cope with their worlds being flipped upside down one time too many, all while keeping level headed enough to fulfill their duty.

Annie sat in the driver's seat, following the Lion's directions as they traveled to God knows where. Hugo was in the passenger seat and both he and his compatriot had to deal with the feeling of Jim looking at their backs. It was uncomfortable, not being able to see him, all while he had the potential to watch them closely. Not that it would have done them any good, even if they saw him. They knew that much. They saw what he did to his cell.

He sat smack dab in the center of the backseat, with Brittany on his left and Rigaud on his right. Even more reason for the two others to be on edge. Strangely, though, Brittany seemed completely calm while Rigaud seemed a bit fidgety. The professor was never anxious, as far as any of then knew. Usually, he was the only one excited to be heading into a fight, but now? Now he wasn't so sure. Annie and Hugo figured that it must be because they were going to fight Johnathan, a monster who Rigaud seemed rather fond of.

Rigaud's eyes kept darting to the car's mirrors. They snapped shut as some reflected headlights right into his face, while others simply frustrated him as they were at the wrong angle to see anything. He had to try and stay a few steps of everyone else, given his predicament, and their surroundings weren't helping him.

He had tried to kill Damien Chaput. He tried to kill him and eat him—on Johnathan's orders, of course, but he had a lot of fun playing with his food all the same. He reveled in being given the opportunity to kill one of his own. He gloated about the people he's killed, finding fun in instilling fear into his prey before he killed him. It was not a professional job. Now all of the information about himself was in Damien's hands and Damien had gotten away. Now that information was probably known by the man sitting beside him—the man who now determined who was and who wasn't a "dangerous" supernatural.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Jim asked, glancing over at the vampire. "You seem nervous… Well, as nervous as a person could be now that you've been ordered to kill your boss, right?" He laughed. How could he laugh at a time like this? Rigaud didn't see the irony in thinking that.

"Is that car behind us following us?" the professor questioned. "They've been there a long time."

"Mmmm… Yeah, they are." the menace bluntly informed, not batting an eyelash. "Don't worry. It's one of ours."

"ORSAP?"

"Yes."

The professor couldn't tell if that was a relief or not. As of then, it felt like he hadn't a friend in the world, but it certainly wasn't his fault. If Damien hadn't pulled that stupid cat trick and gotten away, he wouldn't be in this situation! Dammit, Chaput! It should have been easy to kill a warlock, but the bastard had to pull a dirty trick like that. Still, maybe the baronet didn't know? Maybe he hadn't heard that information or maybe Damien didn't say anything about it? Perhaps Rigaud was actually in the clear? It was a nice thought and it brought the professor some comfort, but it didn't last as the likelihood of that happening dawned on him.

Jim had his own plans, of course. He focused hard on his task, being careful to tell Annie exactly where the door he and Ciel were supposed to enter to combat Johnathan all the while he made his own plans. On top of helping his spouse eliminate the offending demon, he had another job to attend to and he knew that it had to be done quickly before they could do anything else. Then, he received a text message.

"There's cops at that entrance." it said. Damn.

"We'll head to drop point B, then." he replied, putting his phone away quickly before Rigaud could read his messages.

"Who was that?" the professor asked anyway.

"The guy in the car behind us. We'll have to change course. There's cops at that entrance." the menace stated. "Turn here."

That just made the atmosphere in the car a lot worse. Still, Annie obeyed after translating for Hugo. They carried on this course until finally, they grew close to their destination. Jim leaned forward in his seat, placing his hands on the headrests in front of him as he peered through the windshield.

"Stop up here." he said, pointing. "We'll walk the rest of the way."

"With our guns?!" asked Rigaud.

"The cops will be watching these entrance points until ORSAP gives them the order to call off their investigation." explained the menace, taking off his seatbelt. "I don't know how long it takes you guys, so we can't be too safe. Besides, there shouldn't be that many people out this early. We'll just run for it."

Both vehicles came to a stop and people started to file out. Jim stayed behind for a moment, however, turning to Brittany. "Give me your phone number real quick." he instructed. "I need you to stay behind and listen for sirens, alright? Text me if you hear or see anything iffy. You're our lookout."

"Alright." Brittany tried her best not to look relieved, but she was. She was dreading going down into the tunnels again and was all too happy to have gotten out of it.

"The guy in that car behind us is gonna follow after us after we're inside, so don't worry about that." the demon added. "If you need anything, let me know. We'll come back for you as quick as Quidditch, alright?"

"Alright." the young woman answered with a nod, wondering if there was anything else she should say, but the man just gave her a thumbs up and was on his way.

He joined the others to the rather unassuming, industrial-esque door that led to the catacombs. Pressing his thumb to the lock, he Jimmy'd it open. He held it for the others to enter first before following behind them, propping the entrance open with a stone before advancing into the darkness. It lit up quickly as the Phantomhive pulled up his phone and glanced at his map, much to the annoyance of the two vampires who were trying to use their nightvision.

"What are you doing?" Rigaud demanded.

"They're catacombs. They're hard to navigate. I memorised the route for the other entrance, so now I've got to use the map." he stated. "There's a big room that Ciel planned on leading Johnathan into. If we can find that, we can find them."

Jim smiled as he sensed the driver of the other car behind them. The others could only hear the silence that followed his footsteps coming to a stop. They turned around, watching him linger there in the dark.

"What is it?"Annie questioned. Hugo shined his flashlight at the menace, illuminating his face.

"Before we can move on with the mission, we have another urgent matter to attend to…" Letting his hands fall to his sides, Jim's new allies looked frightened of him for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night as his hands caught fire. Flexing his fingers, he cut through the flames with a set of black and gold gauntlets. Hugo's light reflected back at the group on the large claws attached to the man's fingertips. He almost dropped the light as he stepped back. Annie raised her gun, instinctively aiming it at the menace while Rigaud reached for the pistol at his waist.

"Relax..." Jim said. "I'm on official business. Besides, if you shoot at me and miss, you'll hit the guy behind me and you won't like that at all."

"Meow!" a small voice called out, prompting the menace to look behind him. Crouching down, Jim held out a hand and allowed the small creature to climb up his arm.

It was a brown cat with darker brown stripes and a black cross painted over each eye. The most notable thing about the animal was that it had no tail, still somehow finding the means to balance on Jim's shoulders as it stared at the group with a knowing expression. The more they stared at it, the more it seemed to be smiling.

"I believe you've already met." stated Jim. "But only one of you recognises him… After all, this was the form he took to escape you to come to England, isn't it, Rigaud?"

Gritting his teeth, Rigaud recoiled and drew his gun, pointing it at the menace. His eyes were wide and his face was fear stricken as the Lion lured him into a trap. He could feel everyone's gaze on him as he stood, completely frozen as the cat meowed again.

"What is he talking about, Rigaud?" Annie questioned.

_"__What's going on?"_ asked Hugo.

"I… I..." the professor began, trying to think of a good lie to save his skin. "I don't know what he's talking about!" was all he could think to say. "I don't know what the cat is for!"

"Let's refresh your memory, then..." the demon said, holding out his arm. "You, Rigaud, are hereby classified as a dangerous supernatural. Your crimes against humanity entail murdering and eating young women—commonly prostituted women—and knowingly collaborating with a hostile forces against France as a nation. On orders from Johnathan Beattie, it was you who acted as the assassin sent to kill fellow ORSAP agent Damien Chaput. That is a fact."

Annie blinked as Rigaud stammered. Her eyes were fixed on the back of the man's head while he fumbled with his excuses and slowly, the end of her weapon began to point toward him. The orc beside her did a double take when he noticed it.

"_What's happening?!"_ Hugo asked, his voice panicked as he hadn't had a clue what was just said.

_"__It was Rigaud..."_ Annie said._ "Rigaud tried to kill Damien… He would have, if… But how?"_ Her eyes traveled over to the cat._ "Damien?"_

Jim held out his arm, allowing the cat on his shoulders to walk down it before leaping over the group's heads. Their eyes followed it as the animal landed on the other side of them and stung as smoke began to fill the tunnel from the cat's direction.

They couldn't see anything. Nothing at all. Then, a gust of wind blew past them following the recitation of magic words. It was Damien. He was right there, standing in front of them, alive and well. He had most of his magical accouterments hanging from his belt, he had his cape, his eyes were painted in their usual cross pattern. Nothing about him seemed out of the orginary. Annie and Hugo blinked at the sight. It didn't feel real. They had believed he was dead up until a few hours ago. He was gone from this mortal world and they were convinced that he would never be seen again, but defying all that they knew to be true, there he was. Hugo took a step toward him and Annie lowered her gun.

_"__Damien!"_ Hugo cried out, charging toward the warlock before wrapping his arms around him in a back-breaking hug. Tears were in the large man's eyes as he nearly killed Damien himself, blubbering the whole time. "_You're okay!_"

Lowering her gun completely, Annie allowed the weapon to hang freely at her side as she rushed over to join them, fruitlessly wrapping her arms around Damien and one of Hugo's shoulders. _"We thought you were dead..."_

_ "Oof…__ Ugh.. I missed you guys too..." _Damien choked, trying to flick his wrist to pat one of Hugo's arms. _"You're hurting me..."_

_ "__Sorry."_ the orc replied with a smile, setting the warlock down. With a grunt, Damien straightened his clothes before staring straight ahead, looking straight ahead with a glare. He expected to find Rigaud looking back at him with fury, but instead, the vampire was wide-eyed and afraid.

Rigaud's gun fell to the ground with a clatter as he had one of his hands twisted behind his back and metal fingers wrapped around his throat. The demon stood behind him, placing the tips of his claws just beside one of the arteries in his neck, reading to drag it across his throat to the other one as soon as he decided it was the best course of action.

"Are you all alright with seeing this?" Jim asked the group. "'Cause if not, you need to tell me, now." He pressed his fingers into the man's skin, drawing blood as the vampire panicked.

"Wait!" Rigaud cried out. "You can't do this! Guys! Help me! Get him off me!"

There was a pause. "Why?" asked Damien. "You'd let us die. Besides, you're a dangerous supernatural. And dangerous supernaturals have to be dispatched, right?"

"Damien..." Annie murmured before turning her attention to Rigaud. "You tried to kill Damien when he was labeled a dangerous supernatural. Why should you get mercy when it's you?"

"Please!" the professor let out. His breath was heavy and laboured and he shook violently in Jim's grasp. "Please! Guys, I—I was just following orders! You guys can't just let him do this to me, can you?! You have to help me! Please! Help me!"

"Is that what your victims said when you killed them?" Jim questioned. His voice was cold as ice. It chilled the professor to the bone as he heard it from over his shoulder. "Did you show them mercy when they did?"

"Wha—I.. I-!"

"I've seen your kind before… You wanted to be a big, powerful, man, so you picked on the weak and the vulnerable in order to lift yourself up. Becoming a vampire just gave you more permission and less consequences. You got high on the power trip, didn't you?" questioned the Lion. He then continued. "This is who you really are. You're pathetic. You can't stand being in the position of your victims, can you? You're a small fish trying to be a much bigger fish by targeting people you think you can get away with killing, but now, you've bit off more than you can chew and have come face to face with the real deal."

Pierre couldn't move. He didn't dare move a muscle—not one single twitch. He was supposed to be one of the world's greatest predators. A vampire among humans was a wolf among sheep. His fangs could tear out throats and he could snap bone in half with a flick of his wrist. His senses were sharp, his instincts were keen, and the sheer power that he possessed should have made him invincible. And yet, a wolf among sheep is different than a wolf trapped in a cage with a lion.

The power that he had amassed all of his life—the power over students that he had as a teacher, the power that he had over young women as a man with influence, and the power over humanity that he had as a vampire—was nothing compared to this. Everything he had made him comfortable. Comfort made him careless. He assumed too much about his own safety that he did not think for a second that he would ever end up in this position—the position of a victim. He was always the perpetrator. Being the perpetrator was safe and as long as he had control, he was untouchable. Now, he realised that the power he possessed was nothing. It was the illusion of power. Sir Jim Phantomhive; he had power.

He could adapt. He could retake control, even when he lost it. He didn't flail about when things went awry and could instead turn the tides in his favour once again. Jim had a mastery of his tools and his craft. He knew what he had to work with and when he didn't, he was observant enough to reassess and act. Yet, his brute strength was immense. Rigaud knew that Jim could have finished him off ten different ways in one swift movement, but the fact that he was able to question him so calmly—to exercise restraint—was a testament of the demon's power. He was not desperate. He was in control. It was Rigaud who was falling apart.

"I'm sorry..." Riagud pleaded, putting on an ugly display. Tears flowed down his cheeks and snot dripped from his nose as he sobbed, begging for mercy. "I'm sorry I killed those people! I didn't mean it! Please! Please don't kill me! I don't want to die!"

"Do you know the difference between a serial killer and a professional?" asked the menace, digging his claws deeper into the vampire's flesh.

"No! No, please!" Damien turned his back on the professor's pleas, prompting Annie and Hugo to do the same. Rigaud watch them and started to flail. "Guys! Guys! Please help me! Please! Come on! Don't let him do this!"

"A serial killer kills so that he can feel like he has mastery and power over someone." Jim explained. "A professional feels nothing. It's only a job."

Just when Rigaud thought that the man would drag his claws across his throat, he felt a blow to his back. The pain didn't hit him. The shock made sure of that, but when he looked down, he saw the distinct sight of a set of claws poking out of his chest.

* * *

**A/N: That took longer than expected... I anticipated writing more of Ciel and Johnathan's fight, but this ended up being longer than I thought...**

**I'm having trouble focusing on finishing this arc lmao. I keep coming up with completely unrelated arcs I could write and it's super distracting! Hopefully, that doesn't ruin the actual thing I SHOULD be writing...**

**I'm looking forward to this next bit, though. There always comes to a point where it's just like "FINALLY! I get to write the thing I wanted to now!" It's always toward the end of the arc, since I come up with the endings first, usually. This one took a bit longer, though. I had multiple options before the one I've settled on. I've got it figured out now, though, I think!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	65. In The Dark

Ciel squinted tightly as the sudden light pained his eye. He laid on his back for a moment and pressed his hand against the ground. Concrete? The flourescent lights buzzed overhead as she heard the sound of masses of feet stomping away. Blinking, the Watchdog allowed his eyes to adjust to his surroundings.

"A metro station?" he murmured to himself. The people fleeing or who simply stopped and stared, trying to assess the scene were ordinary humans, starting their early morning commutes to work or night owls going home from the night shift. Was the sun up, yet? It felt like it had been forever since Ciel had seen it.

The Watchdog only had a moment or so to dwell on this as he soon needed to move. Johnathan lifted his leg through the hole in the wall he had made and stepped through it. He snarled, kicking brick and bone out of the way as he approached the Phantomhive. His eyes were aglow with animosity and anger as he reached down and tried to grab Ciel by the collar again, only to earn himself a swift kick to the face as he bent over. He took a step back as Ciel got up on his feet, raising his weapon at the brute before him.

"Did I strike a nerve?" Ciel questioned. "Demon. I must confess, it feels strange accusing someone else of it, but you… You're the real thing. You're a monster."

"I'm not..." Johnathan growled, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists, denting the handle on his remaining pistol. "I don't need souls. I'm complete. I have purpose and I have intention! A demon couldn't have organised all of this on his own. Only demons like us, can!"

"No. You're not like me." The Watchdog shook his head. "I can find joy in things. Beauty, too. I feel fondness and am able to be merciful and charitable for the sake of it. That's what human beings do. You can't do any of that, can you? It all has to benefit your ends. Can you do anything that is beyond your ambition? Or does your entire life revolve around me?"

Johnathan didn't answer. He couldn't. Not with words. He resorted to violence to communicate his point, charging and swinging the blade at the end of his pistol at the Watchdog. It collided with the Phantomhive's causing sparks to spray onto the concrete while the demon gnashed his teeth. Johnathan's arms swung frantically and violently striking against Ciel's blade with a loud clatter, dispersing the remaining crowd in a roar of screaming and shouting.

And yet, despite all of this, Ciel had no trouble keeping up. Johnathan's strikes were frantic and in rapid succession, but not unpredictable. The wide arc of his arms was obvious from the moment Johnathan raised his weapon, cuing Ciel in on where the blow would land. While he left no room for Ciel to raise his own weapon offensively, he did not harm him. He couldn't. He didn't have it within his pitiful, blackened, heart to land a killing blow. It ached too much. It yearned too much. It was breaking, causing pain to echo in the void inside of him, but he could not express it. Not properly. The light that he so desperately yearned for was right in front of him. The thing that he believed as much as a monster can believe in anything would bring him the salvation that his miserable self craved so desperately was there-taunting him for daring to seek out what it possessed—what Ciel possessed.

"Don't mock me!" Johnathan roared. "Don't look down on me! I know what you are! I know what you've done! You're the Evil Earl! You're a monster whose been responsible for countless deaths! Far more than I've ever done! Even you're own men! In towns, in cities, in fields, in trenches, in houses, in public buildings! Even here! You've ascended beyond humanity! Above it! Stop pretending you're one of them! Stop pretending to be something you're not! You're a liar! Stop hiding it from me! Stop hiding your real face and face me! Acknowledge me!"

He wanted to see it. Just once. Just a flicker. He wanted to see that raging fire that burned so furiously, so out of control, so brightly, and brilliantly, that it consumed all life that it came in contact with. It defied fate. It burned so brightly, so beautifully, that it was able to surpass the prison of flesh that contained it, burning away old flesh and replacing it with flesh that could not be burned. Yet it could scar. The skin told the story of how this being came to be and Johnathan admired it. It was beautiful. So beautiful. A tapestry depicting the story of a fallen hero. A past. A present. A future. How wonderful. How wonderful was that? Oh, how Johnathan yearned for it. He didn't know what he would do with it, but it would be something big. A trophy? Maybe the first decoration he ever owned.

His blows came down on the Watchdog and they came down hard, trying to match that intensity. He forced the Watchdog back. Ciel's feet moved swiftly underneath him, carrying him from one move to the next. Each hit bounced off or was brushed to the side like it was nothing. Like Johnathan was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing without him.

The brute cried out, begging the Watchdog: "Acknowledge me!" But he was met with no answer. Ciel only focused on his bayonet while Johnathan seethed. His breath came heavy. His face was frozen in a deep snarl. Spit flung from his mouth as he howled. "Why?! Why?! Why won't you show me?! Why won't you acknowledge me?! See me?! Attack me! Hit me! Do it!" He swung his weapon downward and pressed forward, forcing the Watchdog to finally pause as he blocked it. "Do it!"

But Ciel did not give him the expression that he wanted—the one he sought so desperately. There was no anger in his eyes. There was no hatred. No, after all of this, what look did he give Johnathan? After all of his hard work, after all of his effort, what did Johnathan receive?

Pity. Ciel looked upon him with pity. Ciel could not see Johnathan. The face that looked back at him was his own. It was twisted with anger and hurt, and the Watchdog couldn't help but wonder if there was ever a time where he made such a face? Was there a time when he made such an ugly, pitiful, face? He was sure that there was. He couldn't remember when, but he knew it to be true. He did not deny the person that he once was. He did not reject him, but he was ashamed. It was shameful that he did the things he once did, even if he understood why he did them. Nobody knew better than he did. Ciel was a child when his world became engulfed in an endless night—when innocence and light was stolen from him. Yet, he could never go back. That light was lost to him and he could never get it back again. Yet, there was more to be found.

Even if he could not regain the ignorance and innocence that he once had, nor could he ever regain the joy it once gave him, there was still joy in this world. He could know the world's ills and still see the good life had to offer. He could see it and it was alright for him to have it. He knew that now, but he also knew that he could give joy as well. The warmth he felt deep down inside of him was not a roaring fire. It was not painful to the touch. It did not burn and it did not injure. It had been so long ago since he had felt it. It had been hidden under layers upon layers of worn, rusted, and battered armour, and it was vulnerable—so, so, vulnerable—precious. His heart, caked in ash, and blood, and in the tears that he had swallowed for years and years and years was open again—vulnerable and naked. He was afraid of getting hurt, but he knew that in time, he could probably heal again. The brilliant glow reached out against the darkness, piercing it, as he extended forth warmth, kindness, and mercy to others. All of which were traits that he had from the beginning, but neglected and once left to wither and die.

Against his better judgment, Ciel felt himself pitying the creature before him. Although he knew that Johnathan was too shrouded in darkness to actually find the glow he was looking for, he couldn't help but feel pity. What a miserable creature, too hollow to have a life of its own and too murky to see what it was missing. He had no friends, no allies, no lover, no country… Not even have his self. Ciel watched as the demon cried out to him, fangs gnashing and his throat sore, yearning for the Watchdog to acknowledge him and "see" him, but what was there to see? Metal clattered and sparks hit the ground like sobs and tears, yet the Watchdog had no answer for the brute before him.

"Pitiful..." the Watchdog finally murmured, prompting the other demon to reel back. Johnathan leapt backwards, landing a way's away from the Watchdog, his expression wavering as he paused to listen. What a dutiful beast.

"What?" Johnathan softly questioned. "What did you say?"

"Pitiful." Ciel replied. "Truly pitiful. Such an ugly, sad, creature…" He shook his head. "I regret to have ever even resembled you. I regret ever allowing you to exist."

"You… pity me?" The beast bristled at the thought, regaining his scowl. His body tensed as he prepared to attack once more. "You? Pity me?! You are the pathetic one! Always hiding! Always retreating! Always defending, but never attacking! You're the one who's pitiful!" Johnathan puffed out his chest as he insulted the Watchdog. A smirk appeared on his face, taunting Ciel and threatening him to deny it, but the Phantomhive did not waver.

Ciel stood in that empty, concrete, chamber with him. The were alone, now. The humans had all fled. They dropped their morning coffees. They dropped their purses, leaving the contents scattered on the floor. There was no one else to receive the Phantomhive's gaze but Johnathan. There was no one else who could have such a pitying look directed at them. It was not a kind one, either. There was disgust prevalent on the Watchdog's face. Why? Why did he look at Johnathan like that?!

"Don't say that!" Johnathan roared, hurling himself toward the man, fully expecting Ciel to block him like he always did. So when he felt a searing, burning, pain stretch from his hip to his opposite shoulder when he approached, he didn't quite know how to react at first. Warmth spread down his torso as his jacket and shirt fell open. The stench of iron filled the air around them.

"Wha-" Before Johnathan could react, Ciel slashed the other way, leaving the same diagonal mark on the other demon before the brute was able to gather his wits. Ciel's third strike hit Johnathan's bayonet as he finally thought to block the blows. His scowl was replaced with shock at the action, like he somehow didn't believe that Ciel could fight back. Gritting his teeth as she struggled against the Watchdog, he looked up at the man's face. There was contempt in his eyes, causing the beast to smile.

"Ha… Haha..." The beast's laughter came slowly and then all at once. It thundered against the concrete, haunting the tunnels that passed through the platform. "Finally! Finally, you're here!"

"I never left." Ciel replied simply. "You've been gone a long time, though. It's time you disappeared altogether."

"Not yet!" Johnathan barked back, pushing against Ciel's blade with all of his might. His bluish black hair was drenched in sweat, sticking to his forehead as he panted. "Not yet! Not when I'm so close!"

"You were never close." the Watchdog told him. "A man can never bend to the will of a monster. You have no will to begin with."

"Of course I have will! If I had will, could I make the military kneel before me?! Could I make you come after me?!"

"You only pursue me. My image. My shadow. That's why you have that face. But you can never have what I have. You have no scars, Johnathan."

The laughter of the menace rung in Johnathan's ears, mocking him at that. Jim said the same thing. Damn that Lion! Johnathan bared his fangs.

"Shut up!" he roared.

"You're like a child..." Ciel grimaced, pushing back against his foe. Johnathan's feet shifted as they began to slide backwards. "You know nothing-are nothing… You're a blank slate. You learn by copying others you admire. When did you attach yourself to me, monster? Was it when I killed Heinrich? Or was it back in the dungeon of Krampus' castle… when I gave you your name?"

Johnathan's scowl shifted. His eye twitched as he remembered. It was years ago, now. It felt like a lifetime—it was a lifetime, to him. It's where his memory began. His life—his unlife began there. Once a nameless monster, with no place or purpose in the world, he met Ciel—even if he met him in a past life that was beyond his memory—and Ciel called him by his name for the first time. "Johnathan Beattie." It wasn't a bold name. It wasn't an intimidating one. It was just a name—the name of a child Ciel once knew. It was a simple action. Innocuous. Thoughtless. There was no intention behind the Watchdog's words apart from using Johnathan to escape the situation he was placed in at the time, yet that simple gesture meant the world to Johnathan. It was the moment he became "Johnathan." And in naming that demon—in giving him the power of having some sort of tangible identity—Ciel had inadvertently tied the creature to himself. Johnathan was a monster whose master would not accept ownership of him—would not tame him, or guide him, and left him in to be guided by others who he was meant to know, but didn't.

Ciel was a man of mythical proportions, in Johnathan's eyes. He had heard stories from Heinrich about his exploits and his fearsome destructive power. He was like the devil himself, ruling over other remarkably powerful demons and slayed others, yet he rejected Johnathan just as he rejected August, leaving them to be handled by others. Johnathan carried out missions. He did as he was told, looking up to the inner circle of the HELLSING supernaturals from the outside. His eyes sparkled at the thought of working among them, at the Earl's side. It was the one thing that kept him from descending further into devildom—keeping up the illusion that he was complete. Instead of the mindless consumption of souls, Johnathan had another goal: Ciel. Just "Ciel." He didn't know anything beyond that, but it was there.

Out there, in the endless void inside of him—vacant, yet all-consuming—was a glimpse of Ciel's radiant glow. It was unwavering, strong, and consistent. It was warm, but Johnathan had heard legends of the raging inferno that was capable of horrible, wonderful, destructive power. He reached out to it, knowing that it was somewhere, just beyond his fingertips, yet he was unaware of the nature of his own curse. He starved, yet the branches of fruit would move beyond his grasp. He was thirsty, yet the water would recede when he tried to drink. Forever tempted, forever yearning, but what he felt would bring him comfort or completion was forever beyond his reach. If he could just make the flame burn brighter, grow larger, and more out of control—if he could just get it to burn a warpath in his direction, then surely, he could reach it.

But Ciel refused him, even after all of that. After everything he had done. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing!

Nothing…

"No!" Johnathan barked. "No! I'm not! I'm-! That's not-! That's not all I am! I am your enemy!"

"Just." Ciel replied. "Just an enemy. An ordinary enemy. I'll kill you and I won't think twice about it. If anything, I'd be putting you out of your misery. Do you really want to spend an eternity fighting me? I will never be the monster that you want me to be again. I will make sure of it, but not for you. I have moved beyond petty squabbles like this. I've grown. You, however, cannot, nor can you kill me. Over and over again, you have had the chance to finish me off, yet you never follow through. You can't. It's always some excuse about how I'm not sufficiently angry enough for you to have a satisfying fight with, but I know the truth, Johnathan. The truth is: You cannot kill me because without me, you are nothing. You would be an ordinary demon, consuming souls to fill the void in your heart instead of latching onto and trying to sap the time, energy, and emotions of myself. You could no longer 'live' your miserable unlife through me. And every time I refuse, you throw a tantrum like a child. Pitiful. You're pitiful, Johnathan."

The scowl on the brute's face tightened as did the grip on his guns. The metal crunched in his grip, forming solid, useless, chunks. His expression physically caused him pain, but he could not focus on that then. Instead, his focus was entirely on Ciel and the words coming out of the Watchdog's mouth. Slowly, as he squinted through the dark, under the monotonous buzz of the metro station lights, the image of the Watchdog became clearer. The fire he sought was not there. The legendary beast he had yearned to fight was not there. Instead, there was the glow of a man who stood at the edge between two worlds, walking where day met night. And Johnathan could not have him.

The deep wrinkles between his eyebrows flattened as Johnathan's expression fell. It softened as he stared out at the man before him. He wasn't what Johnathan had yearned for, but he was beautiful, nonetheless. The more he stared, the more uneasy, he felt-The more at peace, he felt. All this time, Johnathan had clung to the idea of being someone by a spider's thread. He wanted the Phantomhive to acknowledge him—to see him, but now, he realised the grim, grim, truth. Ciel did see him. He saw Johnathan as he was, not as he wished to be seen. It was so clear. How could he have missed it? The spider's thread snapped a long time ago. All this time, he was just clutching onto air, not knowing where he was, as the darkness around his heart went on forever. That light he sought had been impossible for him to reach for a long time. He just couldn't see it. He couldn't see where he was or who he was—what he was. He was no one. Nothing.

"I'm..." he began. Something warm dripped down his cheek. "...A monster… I'm a monster… I'm… I'm…" He held onto the side of his head and looked down. More liquid dripped from his eyes, but only upon looking down, he could see that it was red. Looking up, he dropped his guns and held out a hand.

"Ciel?" he murmured, calling out to the Watchdog. "Ciel… I..." His teeth protruded, ending in sharp points as his ears grew. Bumps began to form on his head as he held out his hand. It looked human, as far as he could see, but then, his blackened fingernails began to grow. "I wanted to be someone..."

As the sun rose, the sound of sirens approaching could be heard from above. Ciel paid no mind to it, however. His eye was wide as he stared back at the creature, watching as it burst into pitch black flames. They grew as the creature howled a painful, distorted cry to the ether, cursing its fate. A low growl filled the room as the fire died down. Clutching onto his sword tightly, Ciel did his best to prepare himself for the unknown as he stared back at the true face of the demon known as "Johnathan Beattie."

* * *

**A/N: I felt like this was... very quick... Also I love how u can tell when I'm really down for writing a chapter uwu. We love subtlety. **

**Y'know, there's a lot of weird feelings going on, here? They're kind of hard to explain and I'm not sure if I did a good job...**

**Anyway... It's 6 a.m. and I don't want to talk anymore right now k thx uwu lov u all night night**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	66. The Longest Sleep

French police sirens sound different from those back in England. Still, they tore through Paris just as they would back home, on their way to a serious emergency. Two men were reported to be fighting in a metro station. Some reports said they were fighting with swords and knives, while others said that one of them actually had guns. They were half true, as one of them indeed had a sword, but the other had only fangs and claws.

Ciel's gaze turned upwards as the black fire that engulfed Johnathan's body died out. The remnants flickered against shaggy, black, fur on the beast's large frame, pierced by knives and bayonets from the inside out like horrible spines. The blades moved with each nauseating breath the demon took, gasping and rasping at the shock of its own hideous transformation. It was like a fire was lit inside of it and it could barely contain it. Dull, black, horns protruded from its forehead and behind its floppy ears as a mane of magazines to rifles of all shapes and sizes framed its head. Its ashy, scale-like, skin was exposed around the bottom of its legs, causing its dagger-like claws to be prominent. Its tail was long and flexible like a monkey's, ending in a point on the end as it slashed through the air. Steam erupted from the hound's mouth around rows of fangs as it stared back at Ciel. The creature's eyes glowed a bright red, yet they were green with envy. Raising its head, Johnathan let out a haunting and horrible howl. Ciel winced as it pierced his ears, causing him to take a step back. It sounded much like a scream in his own voice, but distorted and perverted beyond passing for "human." Its cry resonated with Ciel, making his eyes feel wet without him feeling pain.

It was a monster born of a broken heart and shattered dreams. It was what remained after the illusion of humanity was dispelled. It was the demon known as "Johnathan," in his most naked of forms. He was finally aware of the full extent of his curse, having realised once and for all, that he would never be whole again. The despair of it all had changed him, forcing him to drop the act and show his true face—the face of a monster; the face of a demon.

Other demons may prance about, pretending to be human with a few perks—a pair of horns here, a tail there, and maybe a few sets of claws-but this? This was the truth. This was the true nature of demons, laid bare for all to see. Ciel had seen it once before. It was years ago when he first fought the demon known as "August" for the first time. She took the form of a deer with a mouth stretching down its neck, but this? This was personal. This was a war dog and it stared back at him, angry that he was not among its ranks. The beast simply could not fathom why the Phantomhive was able to be what he was and why he refused to to join him in the darkness. Ciel, however, looked upon the beast with horror and awe—yet a strange feeling bubbled up from the pit of his stomach.

Relief. Ciel recognised himself in the face of this monster, yet, he also recognised that it was not him. His eye was wide as it came over him like a flash. He was Ciel and this monster was Johnathan. They were separate, no matter what Ciel had done in the past. His heart could ache and yearn, it could seek out warmth, but it also yearned to give warmth. Johnathan could afford to lash out like this. He could spit steam and unleash himself in a blaze of glory, but Ciel could not. Ciel could see the path he wanted to take right in front of him and he was already more than halfway there. He could not afford to let Johnathan win. He could not afford to die and he could not afford to become a monster himself. Ciel would fight, yes, but Ciel would win! He had a home to return to with people he loved and cared about. He had promised to help Revy find a house and take Luka to get his ears pierced. He still needed to make sure that Jim was alright and to ensure that he lived happily! Ciel would not die by the claws and jaws of some lowly brute! The muscles in his legs tensed and he began to move forward, raising his sword as the monster before him spit steam.

Johnathan raised a massive paw and swung it down toward the man. The large daggers at the end of his toes flashed in the dull, fluorescent light. The edge of Ciel's blade caught him between his digits, forcing the Phantomhive's muscles to push against the appendage as hard as he could. His biceps strained as he raised his chin, trying to avoid the large claws aimed right at his neck. Ciel grit his teeth and pushed upwards, holding his sword at an angle with one hand on the handle and the other on the dull side of the blade. Stepping forward, he slid the blade along the beast's flesh before finally sliding underneath him, slashing the bottom of Johnathan's paw with the tip of his weapon as he leaned back, narrowly missing the beast's claws as it moved forward.

The brute hissed in pain as his foe moved to the side of him. Ciel raised his weapon again while advancing, aiming to strike the beast's belly, only for the hound to twirl, moving his hips toward the Phantomhive while flicking its tail. Once again, Ciel ducked, narrowly missing the appendage, only for it to swing toward him again while his back was turned to it, cracking him like a whip.

It felt like Ciel was bleeding—like his skin had been torn open as he was thrown by the impact. He fell, breaking his fall on the smoothed concrete with his hands, but still managing to fall on his face. He had to get up. Quickly, he flipped over and shuffled to his feet, swinging his sword out in front of him with one hand as the monster charged him. Opening its horrible maw, snapping its rows of teeth at the bluenette just as the Phantomhive managed to dodge. The tip of his blade ran across the brute's face, forcing it to close its eyes and recoil. It was shallow, but Ciel managed to leave a gash across Johnthan's left eyelid. Without looking, Johnathan swung his arm, striking the Phantomhive in the side with his paw and throwing him into a wall. His body tore a billboard before collapsing to the ground. The poster floated down on top of him, forcing him to quickly swat it away.

Johnathan was simply too big for him to fight comfortably, especially in this space. If he weren't out of bullets, it would be different, but with only a sword? That was a problem. Sure, Ciel had fought bigger beasts than him, but he had barely survived. The goal was to return home in one piece, but it was looking to be a bit harder than he'd hoped. The sirens grew louder, ringing in his ears as Ciel tried to think for a moment. There were footsteps rushing down the steps.

Oh no…

Police came armed, anticipating two madmen fighting with swords on the subway platform. They weren't anticipating a shoot-out, however, so they came with the bare minimum. Batons and riot shields. Even if they came with an army, it wouldn't be enough, though. These poor mortals were up against demons, as they soon found out. They came down those steps, anticipating an easy win, but soon stopped dead in their tracks, pushing back against officers who hadn't seen the danger yet pushing them forward. Eyes were wide and the blood had drained from faces as they came face to face with a creature of myth. To be fair, they didn't know what it was, but knew it wasn't good, regardless. Ciel craned his neck to look back at them, a similar look of fear crossing his own visage. These men really had no idea what they were doing.

"_Run away!_" he ordered as the police stayed frozen. Some had the nerve to raise their weapons, but as Johnathan saw the look on his enemy's face, their fate was sealed.

The monster smiled. The monster. Smiled. It threw its head back and laughed a hideous, low, and distorted, cackle, flashing its teeth at the cops in the process. With that, he turned away from the Phantomhive and toward the police. Ciel scrambled to his feet and began running toward the monster as it opened its jaws wide. Neither demon hesitated as some officers held up shields while others raised their batons. Most, however, stood frozen, as their minds hadn't yet caught up with them, wasting time that they didn't have before Johnathan's jaws closed around their heads. The first officer was pulled up into the air and shook. His neck snapped. It was a horrible, loud sound that Johnathan could feel on his tongue. He released the officer less than a moment afterwards, tossing the body to the side as it ragdolled through the air and across the floor. He raised his paw and swung it at the mob, breaking the ribs of several officers as it struck them in the sides and slashing a few behind them with his claws. These were not superficial cuts, either.

By the time Ciel finally reached him, raising his weapon high, there wasn't much that could be done for them. Some were dead while others were bleeding out. The shock of their injuries prevented them from feeling just how badly damaged their bodies were. Limbs were gone while others looked down at their own organs spilling onto the platform form the gashes in their abdomens. These were not professionals who were trained to cope with supernatural threats. They had no idea what they were getting into. Ciel pitied them and did not blame those who ran away. They were not cowards. They were simply the ones who were able to snap out of their astonishment first. They were civilians in a war that they didn't know existed and Johnathan felt perfectly comfortable in exploiting their presence.

That same horrible laugh bubbled from Johnathan's throat as the blood of these insects gushed from his jaws, matting his fur as he bit down on the torso of one of the bystanders. A wretched crunching sound rang out as the officer screamed. He wasn't even quite sure what had broken, but it was definitely something important.

How small Ciel felt, swiping at the beast's ankles while Johnathan was seemingly distracted. He quickly stopped his actions as he looked up and held out his arms to catch the poor cop as Johnathan released him from his grip. The grown man was not heavy in the slightest in Ciel's grip, but the moment they made contact, Ciel had to move again, leaping back as Johnathan snapped his jaws at them both. Fighting Johnathan without the hindrance of carrying someone was bad enough, so Ciel quickly tried to find an opportunity to set the officer down. Yet Johnathan wouldn't allow it.

Unleashing a barrage of blows—snapping of jaws, whipping of tails, and swiping of claws, Johnathan forced his opponent to keep moving. All the while, the officer grew weaker and weaker by the second. Blood stained the man's clothes and his limbs flopped limply as Ciel leapt about. His eyes were open, but his breathing was laboured. Ciel knew that he wasn't going to make it, but still couldn't merely toss him to the side like garbage while he was still alive.

"Ciiiiieeeeelll~..." the creature chimed in its warped, inhuman voice, its claws scraping against the ground as it pursued the other demon. "Come back, Ciel… Dear brother… Don't be a coward, Ciel… Come here..."

Raising his paw, Johnathan swiped at Ciel again, but this time, he dashed forward, ducking underneath the other demon's massive frame. A dagger sticking out from between Johnathan's rips slashed Ciel's forehead and the top of his skull. The sickeningly pungent, iron-smelling liquid that seeped from his wound soaked his eyepatch as he hissed. His feet fumbled and he fell to the ground behind Johnathan, dropping the policeman in the process. His limp body rolled away from Ciel as the bluenette caught himself with his hands, slapping them hard against the floor. His sword clattered to the ground with him, forcing him to go after it as the policeman inadvertantly stopped it with his body. Crawling toward him, Ciel grabbed onto the handle, getting a firm grip on it before looking down at the officer.

The human man was still breathing, although it was somehow both simultaneously laboured and weak. Ciel felt as though his earlier assumption was right. The man probably wasn't going to make it. He probably had a life of his own and hadn't planned on dying there on that day. Ciel could see a wedding band on his finger, now soaked and crusted in the same substance that drenched Ciel's eyepatch. The man was just so… fragile. Ciel had known for a long time that humans were indeed fragile, but it somewhat caught him off guard at times. They are creatures of both great cruelty and destruction, but also of great weakness. It was difficult for Ciel to imagine himself in such a position, despite having been one of their kind at some point. What would it have been like if he had been born an ordinary man, without any obligations as The Queen's Guard Dog, or as an Earl? Ciel honestly couldn't imagine it. People like this often felt alien to him. Ignorant. It was a loathsome trait in humanity, but it was one that was meticulously maintained by his organisation. It was as much of a privilege to be aware of the world as it is as it was a curse. While Ciel was absolutely opposed to intentionally inflicting this lifestyle on anyone, he loathed to think that any future Phantomhive would be ignorant.

Wait, future?

Ciel got an uneasy feeling in his gut. Dread for what was to come? Yes. In an instant, Ciel turned himself around and held out his hand, squeezing it as the loud sound of Johnathan's tail cracking light a whip echoed throughout the platform. Ciel winced at the stinging sensation in his palm, but refused to let go of Johnathan's tail. He had caught it. Blood ran down his arm as his flesh was cut open there, but he still had one good palm left. Pulling on the creature's tail with one hand, Ciel held it taught, and with the other, he raised his sword on high and brought it back down on the bone.

Johnathan howled in pain. He spun around, and around, and around, as if running from the pain. The tight bundle of nerves at the severed end of the appendage were on fire, screeching in agony, while millions more were now dead. The tail thrashed about in Ciel's grip before he clumsily released it, allowing it to squirm and writhe on the floor at his feet before he kicked it away. It slid across the floor, letting out all of the life it had left in it before finally, it lay still, dead and separate from Johnathan.

The beast himself was enraged, fully engulfed in seething fury at Ciel's actions, past and present. How humiliating. The brute had his tail severed when he was doing so well. He had Ciel on the run! Why couldn't he have just killed him?! "Ah…" Johnathan remembered. "Because it's you."

Turning to face the Watchdog, Johnathan let out a roar, shaking the earth beneath their feet and above their heads, causing dust to fall from the ceiling and fluorescent lights to shatter. But Ciel did not back down. Instead, he pressed forward, rushing at the beast to close the distance between them. He only had one chance to make this shot, so he aimed the tip of his weapon carefully. If he missed, he'd strike one of the magazines or daggers protruding from the creature's body. Its thick, shaggy, fur did nothing to assist him in the matter, but as the distance between them became feet, the blade pierced Johnathan's flesh. It disappeared somewhere in the creature's body, but was not close enough to kill him.

"Damn it!" Ciel barked as the beast yowled in pain. He furrowed his brow, baring his grit teeth as he grabbed a fistful of the hair with his left hand and pulled out the weapon with his right. Even if he hadn't hit the heart, he had hit a vein in the creature's neck, spurting its vile blood all over both the platform and Ciel himself. He could taste it as he stabbed the creature again.

Johnathan lowered his head, snapping his jaws while trying to reach the Watchdog, but missed again and again. The angle simply wasn't right, and his claws only scratched at his own flesh. "Phantomhive!" the creature bellowed, lifting itself up on its hind legs. His horns hit the ceiling first, then his magazine mane, shattering glass bulbs and crumbling stone.

Ciel felt his feet lifting up off of the ground, but he held tight, closing his eye as the ceiling cracked and sparks pelted him from damaged lights. He couldn't see and Johnathan couldn't see him, but Ciel could feel his oponent's body tensing, getting ready to shake him of. Thus, the bluenette let go of him, pulling out his sword and letting go of the demon's fur.

He fell straight to the ground as Johnathan's body shook, his horns and his man scraping the ceiling. The Watchdog's vision blurred as the dust and debris stung his eye, but he still saw a target. Lunging forward, he took his blade in both hands and stopped just in front of Johnathan. With a mighty swing, he slashed the demon's legs right down to the bone. His tendons slashed, Johnathan fell, putting his front paws out in front of him to catch himself while the Watchdog moved to the side.

The beast fell, rolling onto its side in order to continue slashing at the Phantomhive, forcing him back. Ciel, however, was not content with this. He finally had Johnathan in a vulnerable position and felt the rush of the battle washing over him. His muscles worked hard to serve him, his heart was racing, and adrenaline coursed through him. Ciel felt the power of wielding a weapon and using it to impose his mastery over the beast. Pressing forward, his black shoes traipsed through pools of the creature's blood as it lay bleeding and desperate. The scent of iron was intoxicating.

Ciel wanted Johnathan to die. He wanted this monster gone from the world once and for all. After everything he had done, he surely had it coming. Helping Abhartach attack Buckingham Palace, stealing the jawbone of Vincent Phantomhive, cloning Ciel without his consent and possessing the body, using his face, his voice, and his strength to undermine French military operations and bring HELLSING there-it was more than enough. What really made Ciel angry, however, was the fact that Johnathan simply refused to die. He came back just to torment Ciel and interrupt his life, taking him away from his homestead and forcing him here—forcing Jim here with him. Not only did Johnathan harm Ciel's beloved with his voice, his face, and his hands, he forced them on this mission where he could do that. He forced them here, so that Ciel and Jim had to leave their peaceful, mundane world behind—or at least, what they had built together to resemble one.

Ciel wanted to go home—back again to England and his estate with his spouse so that they could be a family again. Ciel knew that it was never permanent, however. He wasn't a fool. He lived in the twilight; just on the edge of day and the dark. He could never live in the day. He wasn't built for it. He hadn't been in a long, long, time. There wasn't any memory of it left. Ciel's duty and the underworld would always seep into the quiet, but Ciel couldn't live any other way. Whether that was good or bad, he hadn't decided yet, but he knew that he wasn't suited to living in the dark, either. It was a blessing to not be ignorant and to have a broader perception of the world than most, but it was also a curse. He had to balance them for the sake of those he loved and for the sake of his own well being. Johnathan, however, was determined to stop him and would reemerge again, and again, and again, until the end of time if Ciel did not put an end to him. Yet, as Ciel walked toward the flailing beast as it lay weakened, he realised that he could not.

If Johnathan fell to his sword, he would simply eject his soul and find another host, disappearing into the shadows until he found the means to torment the Phantomhive again. He would destroy lives and nations for the sake of this goal. He would torment Ciel's family, using them as a means to hurt his enemy, subjecting them to tortures that would grow progressively more cruel and more depraved until Johnathan became the things that lurked in the darkest recesses of Ciel's mind. Every gruesome scene that Ciel had happened upon during his long, long, life, and every atrocity that he both knew and didn't know could be committed by hands of flesh and blood would not have a stranger as its victim, but a face Ciel knew and knew intimately. The very thought unleashed a storm inside of Ciel, bombarding him with feelings of anger, of fear, and of profound revulsion that shook his very constitution. He had no target for these feelings, either. He could not use Johnathan as a means to release his emotions, as a violent fit of rage and pain would only serve Johnathan, aiding him in his escape so that he could one day strike again. Ciel needed to stop him. He needed to keep him from leaving. Johnathan's soul could not be released. Severing it from his body—the body he stole from Ciel—would trap the Watchdog in yet another cycle with him in which they must fight to the death once more.

Ciel risked everything each time he went into battle. He had things to lose, now, while Johnathan did not. All the beast had was another loss on his end. It was like a game to him. Insignificant. Pointless. Nothing. How dare he? How dare this naught-walker continue to exist? How dare this creature of absolutely no value or worth continue to torment Ciel? Poking him, prodding him, and trying to persuade him to abandon the humanity that he had worked so hard to build up within himself! Demon! Devil! Ciel would not join him, he would make sure of that, but this was not a battle that he wished to have again.

He needed to trap Johnathan before the cycle could repeat. The beast's soul could not be allowed to roam free. Ciel knew very well that it was possible. He himself had his soul once taken from him and placed in an object. He knew that there existed objects in this world that contained the disembodied souls of trapped demons that were simply too dangerous to both let live and to kill. Diabolical objects. They were legendary, but cursed, having a multitude of negative effects, depending on both the object itself and the demon inside of it.

Ciel wasn't very certain that he could make one, to begin with, and even if he could, he hadn't the slightest clue as to what item to use. Briefly, he looked at his sword in his hand, but decided against it. It would be stupid of him to give a demon that threatened the lives of himself and the ones he cared about a weapon. His soiled eyepatch? No. Wearable objects were dangerous, as unsuspecting humans could put them on. Detective Bailey Juniour of Scotland Yard still hadn't forgiven the Phantomhives after lopping off his finger when he put on the Ring of Hilarion.

In his daze, he failed to act before Johnathan could twist his body so that his front paws were on the ground again. The brute struggled, unable to use its back legs, but still wobbled upright, dragging its lower half behind it. He barked, spraying spit at the Phantomhive. It was low and it was loud. Ciel could feel the vibrations of it hit him as the creature growled. Snapping to attention, Ciel took his fighting stance, holding on to the handle of his sword tightly as he tried to calculate his next move. He'd have to stall for time until he thought of a solution, but for a moment, he thought he might not have any at all.

A shot rang out and Johnathan winced as a bullet struck one of the daggers sticking out of the creature's back. There was nothing but silence as the ringing of the metal colliding rung out. Snarling, the beast turned his head in the direction it came from, prompting Ciel to do the same.

"How can you miss?!" Jim called out, turning his head to the vampiress beside him. She was carrying a rifle as Hugo helped Damien crawl through the large hole in the wall that led from the subway to the catacombs. "It's a massive dog! It's not even that far away!"

"That's a big dog..." Annie softly murmured, her eyes transfixed on the creature. She let out a nervous laugh, hesitating on the battlefield.

With a roll of his eyes, Jim charged forward. He was injured, but knew his limits and knew he had pushed past worse. His claws were drawn as he rapidly and recklessly approached the beast.

"Oi! Paws off my man, ugly!" he declared, rushing past his spouse. Ciel stood, mouth slightly agape as his wide eye followed his husband's visage. Jim was… smiling? Even after Johnathan branded him? Well, Ciel supposed it was obvious and felt somewhat silly for thinking otherwise. He was Sir Jim Phantomhive, The Lion. He was sturdy and strong. He would never break easily and Johnathan was a fool for assuming he would. Snapping back to his senses, Ciel realised that he was still in a fight.

"Jim! Wait!" he called out, but the menace was already in the air.

He flexed his claws as Johnathan opened his maw, trying to catch him, but the baronet had dug into the creature's snout, pulling himself upwards just as the brute was about to close its jaws around his legs. Kicking off the demon's snout, Jim reached out once more, wrapping his arms around one of the large horns protruding from Johnathan's forehead and swinging around it, landing on top of the creature's head with the magazine mane to his back.

"Yee-haw, buckaroo!" the menace shouted, digging his claws into Johnathan's scalp for dear life as the creature swung its head about, trying to shake him off. Jim's rear lifted from his "seat" as he felt the full pull of gravity with each violent swing. As Johnathan swung his head upwards, Jim was pressed against his scalp. Seizing the opportunity, Jim quickly let go with one hand, bringing it upwards as he prepared to strike. "Get along, little doggie!"

Johnathan let out a painful cry as he suddenly found himself with Jim's fingers stabbing into his left eye. Jim wiggled them, making sure it was hard to heal before finally overstaying his welcome. With the next swing, he was thrown from the beast's head as Johnathan reeled in pain. The menace landed on his feet, his shoes sliding on the concrete as his claws dug into the ground, bringing himself to a stop next to his spouse.

"Hello!" he called out, standing upright as he clapped his metal-clad hands at his husband. "Look alive, Phantomhive! I had him distracted! You could've killed him ten times already! What's the matter with you? That surprised to see me?"

"Yes…" Ciel said with a slow nod, blinking as if he hadn't really heard what the other man was saying. "I mean—no! I-! Ugh! I can't think about that right now! Listen! We can't kill Johnathan!"

"What?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but there's not a lot of time to explain… We need to trap his soul in a thing so he doesn't possess somebody and get away, understand?"

"Not at all, but I trust you." Jim nodded. He sounded confident despite himself. Looking back to the creature, he punched his own hand and flexed his fingers, preparing for combat. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it!"

Ciel opened his mouth to give an order, but sputtered. "I- I'm still working on that bit!"

"Ciel!" his husband gawked in disbelief.

"I need a thing to trap him in!"

"Well, while you're dreaming of genie, there's a very pissed off giant dog-thing that wants to hurt us, so any time would be good."

Johnathan shook his head before trying to blink. He hissed as his left eye was still in pain, but his right was still fully functional. It glowed an eerie crimson as steam escaped the creature's mouth like it was burning up inside. The monster roared, furious at the Lion for daring to interrupt his battle with Ciel.

"Jesus Christ, he's having a rough day..." cringed the blonde, but the gears in Ciel's head kept turning.

"Je—I have something!" the bluenette declared. His face lit up at the realisation. "Keep him busy!"

"Right-o!" Jim didn't need any further explanation or even a "hello, how are you doing?" from the Watchdog. He trusted him without question and knew that whatever his beau had in mind, it was going to work, even if Ciel himself doubted it. There was no other reason Jim needed to fling himself at the beast once more, dodging claws and gnashing teeth, all the while Ciel did God knows what behind him.

The two divided and conquered, with Jim acting as bait and Ciel laying his trap. Dipping his toes into one of the many pools of blood in the area, the Watchdog dragged it across the floor, leaving a trail in his wake. As he drew his circle, his husband took his place in the heat of battle, much to Johnathan's dismay. The Lion was striking the creature with blow after blow, smashing his fist into the demon's face and leaving long claw marks wherever he had the opportunity to. This, however, was not his fight.

Johnathan's mouth erupted with steam as his battle—the battle he had planned for, yearned for, and killed for—was interrupted. No! It wasn't just interrupted; it was stolen! Jim had stolen his fight! The fight that the creature had hours upon days upon weeks upon months planning! It was ruined and now, Johnathan didn't think he would ever get another chance like this again. So, he paused. He stopped his gnashing, he stopped his clawing, he stopped his growling and howling. He simply waited on Jim to come at him and land the killing blow so that he may escape and return to fight another day. But as Johnathan stopped, so did Jim.

The two stared at each other, locking eyes and trying to figure out how long it would take to wear the other down. Jim was unshakable and Johnathan was impatient. He began to growl again, his anger getting the better of him while Jim stood idle, refusing to come to him.

"Aw, is the big, bad, doggy gwumpy?" the menace prodded, offering a faux-shudder. "I'm so scawed… I'm shaking!" He let out a laugh, grinning widely as the creature growled at him. He laughed! How dare he not be afraid!? How dare this irredeemable mutt—the very same mutt that caused the most noble and fearsome Lord Ciel Phantomhive to fall from grace—laugh at Johnathan?!

The creature overflowed with rage, steam erupting from his mouth and blood mixed with spit dripping from his fangs. Slowly, he moved forward, placing one foot in front of the other as he allowed his hate to get the better of him. Johnathan, no mater how hard he tried to be Ciel, was not at all like him. He lacked restraint. He lacked the discipline necessary to practise restraint. The beast was ruled by its own vices, choosing to do what he thought would feel most satisfying in the moment. He only restrained himself when he thought that the payoff would be greater than a more immediate reward, but now, overwhelmed by the excitement of the fight and knowing that should he die, he would simply escape elsewhere, he raised his mighty paw on high, staring down at the haughty Lion beneath him as he prepared to slice him in two. Jim, however, stayed put, smiling back at the creature as it threatened his life.

Jim was not afraid, however. When Johnathan's claws came down, the menace leapt to the side, allowing Johnathan to lose balance, now that his weight was predominantly focused on one paw. Johnathan moved forward, crashing to the ground on the shoulder of the arm he swung. Quickly, he turned his head, finding the menace at his side. Lifting his other paw, the beast tried once more to catch him, but the Lion moved again, stepping a few paces to the side as Johnathan's paw hit the ground. In an instant, the Phantomhive rushed it, flexing his fingers open and wrapping them around one of the tendons in Johnathan's wrist. He bore his claws into the beast's flesh, piercing the skin and causing him to scream. Then, with a swift pull, Jim cut through Johnathan's flesh, rendering him with only one paw left.

Johnathan kicked and howled, finding it hard to believe how much pain he was in. The last time he had fought Ciel, death had been quick and painless, but now? It was torture. Agonising. The subway reeked of his blood, as almost every surface was now painted with the substance. How could he?! How could he do this to him?! This was not at all the fight he wanted! He was not victorious! He did not come out on top in a blaze of glory, asserting mastery over his master! He lay in a broken heap, all but helpless as the demons refused to put him out of his misery. Cruel! Evil! Monstrous! But was this not what the demon wanted? Did he not want Ciel to be cruel, to be hateful, and to show him just how dastardly and wicked he could be? No… This was not it.

Ciel's heart was simply too strong for that. That brightness and intensity that Johnathan sought was poisonous to him. He could never touch it, no matter how hard he tried or how close he got to it. Johnathan was still a monster and Ciel was still a man. Men defeated monsters. That was how it was and how it had always been.

Johnathan felt the Lion's claws digging into his nape as Jim strained to drag him across the blood-soaked floor. Ciel was waiting for them, having finished his preparations. Having found a clearing, the Watchdog soiled it by dragging Johnathan's blood across it, drawing a circle with an upside-down star in the center. He drew additional flourishes that he thought might help, taking advice from the sorcerer who stood beside him, but was unable to touch the cursed blood, himself. Damien backed away, joining the others while Ciel stared at the other two demons, yearning for this conflict to finally come to an end.

Grunting, Jim dragged the beast into the center of the circle before releasing him. He let go, joining his spouse while Ciel rummaged around in his pockets. He had a grave look on his face that relaxed slightly as his fingers brushed against what he was looking for. Gripping it, he pulled it out, holding out a small bottle that was just about the size of his palm.

"Good. It's not broken..." he breathed, glancing down at it before looking toward his foe. Holding the bottle out to his beloved, the Watchdog asked: "Jim, can you take the lid off for me, please?"

"What is it?" questioned the blonde. Black fire consumed his hands for a moment, causing the heavy gauntlets he wore to vanish. He reached out, wrapping his fingers around the lid of the bottle before twisting it. As he removed it, however, a drop of whatever was inside landed on his hand, burning it. "Ow! What the fuck?!" he barked, looking at his wound. "What is that?"

"Holy water." Ciel replied flatly. "From Notre Dame."

With his other hand, he held up his sword, pointing it toward the beast as he entered the circle. The man stared into the eye of the creature, the two of them searching the other for answers to questions they did not yet know, and as Johnathan growled, Ciel opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to give a rousing speech about how he had bested the beast—about how they were nothing alike and how he was now free from Johnathan's evil, but then, as he saw Johnathan waiting for him, he realised that the beast was anticipating it. Johnathan yearned for the theatrics. He yearned for Ciel to tell him how he fought with all his might, but it simply wasn't Johnathan's day. He looked up at the Watchdog with a strange sense of whimsy, like a child expecting praise. He wanted acknowledgment, but Ciel closed his mouth, pressing his lips into a thing line. The image of Ciel's blade being raised reflected in Johnathan's widening eye as he realised that Ciel would not acknowledge him. He opened his jaws, getting ready to bite, but Ciel's sword came down, piercing the beast's skull and driving deep into his brain.

Blood bubbled from the wound as Johnathan tried to uselessly flail his legs. It burned. It hurt. It was cold. It was getting colder. He was growing weaker. Ah, he knew this feeling. With the last of his strength, he grinned, exposing his fangs and gums as a chuckle gurgled from his throat. Johnathan was dying.

Good…

Ciel, however, was still fighting as Johnathan gave in and began to slip from his immortal coil. He was already dead. He had died once, but Ciel was still alive. Grunting, the Watchdog squeezed his eyes shut as the beast let out one last jet of thinning steam. This was going to be the hardest part of the fight for him. Using his sword as a conduit, he needed to sever the demon's soul from his body and force it into the bottle, but it was much easier said than done.

Johnathan was not an easy demon to wrestle with. Ciel had never taken a demon's soul in the first place, but Johnathan was especially difficult. He was a demon who deluded himself into believing he was human. His energy was powerful and it made Ciel feel nauseous. The beast's sickness was traveling through his body, washing over Ciel like a blight and threatening to linger if the Watchdog made a mistake. For a moment, Ciel's vision went black as the void tried to seep inside of him as deep as it could go, digging up past sins and doubts while trying to take root.

The ash of the battlefield, the pungent smell of burning flesh; the dark of some chamber beneath some nobleman's estate and the smell of dirt, must, and blood; struck Ciel and invaded his senses. The groaning of dying soldiers, the looks on the shell-shocked faces of allies after their commanding officer betrayed them by sacrificing their own, the wails of despair from a mother whose son would never come home made his skull feel as though it were being crushed. Thoughts of dishonouring his parents. The yearning he had to be bigger and stronger than anyone who may stand in his way so that nothing—nothing!-could ever hurt him or his family ever again! The overwhelming darkness latched onto him and tried with all of its strength to drag him down into the abyss. And yet, it didn't feel familiar.

"Ciel!" Jim's voice felt faint to his ears, but he heard it against all of the noise.

Johnathan's life force was fading from the beast's body and if Ciel had anything to say about it, he would be expelled from the Watchdog's body, too. Furrowing his brows, Ciel's eyes widened as he grit his bared teeth. No way! There was absolutely no way that Lord Ciel Phantomhive would submit to such a weak will! What did this creature take him for? He had been saying it all along, hadn't he? Ciel was a man and it takes a man to defeat a monster. Ciel's vibrant will would crush Johnathan's with ease!

Letting out a roar, Ciel expelled the darkness and once again, he had returned to the real world! Focusing all his power, he forced Johnathan out of his body. The bottle in his hand became scorching hot as the water began to boil, releasing steam from its opening.

"Jim!" Ciel shouted. "The lid!"

Snapping from his daze, the blonde's eyes widened. He hesitated for a moment before entering the circle, putting his hand in front of his face as he was struck by a wall of heat. It almost pushed him back for just a moment, but he pressed onward, hurrying with his arm outstretched as he reached to help his husband. Urgently, he clumsily shoved the lid onto the bottle with one hand, gripping his spouse's with the other as he began to twist on the cap. Gripping it tightly, he made sure it held fast, twisting it until he received a sign that the deed was done.

It felt like a weight had been lifted from the both of them. The air felt lighter and clearer. The malevolent force that had hung over all of them had been removed, sealed away in a bottle of holy water.

Then, Ciel let out a breath. His muscles began to relax and his eye became droopy. With his husband still holding his hand, Ciel pulled on the handle of his sword until it was free of the beast's body. Johnathan Beattie was no more. Rather, he was incapacitated.

Black flames engulfed the blade as Ciel finally sheathed his sword. His fingers ached from how hard he had gripped the handle without even realising it. Softly, he put his hand over Jim's, pulling them off of the bottle. It was no longer boiling, but it still felt warm to the touch. Johnathan was clearly not happy about being inside. They could both sense him there, but much to their surprise, they could see him, too. The water inside, which was supposedly blessed in the famous cathedral and had divine properties, had turned black; tarnished by the devildom that Johnathan possessed.

Both of them paused, staring at the object, waiting to see if it would break. There was complete silence for what felt like hours until they felt at ease—or at least somewhat confident that they had a moment before Johnathan did anything about his predicament. Letting out a sigh, Ciel looked up, finally getting a good look at his spouse.

He seemed ordinary—well. Ciel could tell that Jim was injured, but also that the menace didn't seem too entirely perturbed by it. The blonde's hair was a mess and he had dried blood caked onto his skin, just as he usually had at the end of a mission. But then, his beau looked up at him, matching his daze. The corners of his eyes crinkles as a smile spread across his face. The laugh that bubbled up from his throat was light and friendly. One would think that Ciel had never heard it before in his entire life, but when heard in comparison the low, inhuman, laughter the Watchdog had heard from his foe all night, it felt a bit jarring. Yet, it was also nice. It was difficult for Ciel to believe that in such a short time, the mission was "over," and now he could start his journey back home again.

He was missing something, however and all at once, Ciel was back on his guard. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed, causing the blonde's smile to fade. Maintaining his composure, he carefully placed the bottle in his shirt pocket, placing a hand over it, double-checking that it was secure where it was for the time being.

"What is it?" Jim asked, his fresh frown turning to worry. "Is something wrong with it?"

"No..." Ciel answered with a shake of his head. "It should be stable for the time being."

"Then what is it?"

The Watchdog didn't answer right away. Lifting his chin up into the air, Ciel clasped his hands behind his back, as he looked the menace over. After a moment, he came out with it.

"Jim..." he said, "Unbutton your shirt."

"What?" gawked the menace.

"Do it."

"Are you serious? We just sealed away a massive problem demon and you wanna see me with my shirt off? No 'Good job, Jim,' or 'I'm glad you're alright, Jim?!'"

"Shirt. Now." Ciel very sternly reiterated. "Let me see it."

Immediately, Jim remembered. He was so wrapped up in the mission itself, that he had entirely forgotten about the mark on his chest. Of course Ciel would want to see it.

Reaching up, Jim, ran a finger down the front of his shirt, unweaving the threads of his demonic garb and stopping just beneath the brand. Ciel raised his eyebrows at the gesture, prompting his gaze to return to Jim's face for just a moment.

"Demonic garb. I'll tell you later." the blonde answered, refusing to give away any further information on the matter. Ciel's emotions were already a mess as it was.

Unclasping his hands, Ciel gripped the other man's shirt and parted it, exposing his husband's chest, much to the mild embarrassment of the menace. Ciel let go for just a moment in order to clutch his fingers around the eyepatch on his own face. With a harsh tug, the strings effortlessly snapped. While Ciel could hardly see anything out of that eye, he had grown tired of the soiled garment and wanted to look upon the brand with his bare face.

It looked painful, glowing a dull red with a nasty blister already covering it. The Watchdog scrunched his nose, feeling a twinge of pain in his own mark. It was like being stabbed with a needle. But, the brand was indeed healing. Ciel flinched as his hands were covered, enveloped in the warmth of Jim's. He immediately relaxed at the gesture and was somehow able to tear his gaze away from the brand in order to look at the blonde's face.

"I'm not keeping it." Jim said, referring to the scar the brand would leave. His brows furrowed slightly and his lips pressed together in a thin line as he searched the bluenette's face. He stared into Ciel's mixmatched eyes, watching as the emotions that swirled within them change rapidly.

Then, Ciel surprised him. Not wanting to explain himself—or rather, lacking the words or sense to do so, Ciel let go of his husband's shirt and stepped into him, holding him around the shoulders and leaning his cheek into Jim's with a sigh. Jim's face held a look of astonishment, but it soon melted away, his cheeks turning rosey as his husband tenderly stroked his messy hair.

The morning sun would hurt their eyes once they reached the surface again, but it was necessary. Despite the mess left in the underground, the duo had to start back home sometime and knew it would be a while longer until they could go. But the journey would start and that was all that really mattered right then. Fire engulfed the body of Johnathan, returning it to a human shape. His remaining eye was vacant as it stared into nothingness, with nothing occupying it but an unusual wetness.

* * *

**A/N: I actually forgot to put an A/N lmao. I'm so tired... I've been working on this chapter... for so long... I'm so done with it... Oh my god, just FUCK OFF, Johnathan holy shit...**

**lmao there's still a bit to wrap up, but I'll save it for later. I hurt my pinky and typing is kind of a pain. Don't you worry, though! I'll have some fresh energy to cook u up a spicy chapter of supernatural nonsense.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	67. Uncertain Future

The group walked down the street for a while, tired and covered in blood, with Annie borrowing Damien's cloak to protect her from the sun until one of ORSAP's vehicles came to pick them up. Upon their immediate return, Jim contacted HELLSING Headquarters to update them on the situation while Ciel explained to the ORSAP agents that they could not enter the subway station without some precautionary measures. The place was covered in demon blood and was simply no place for humans; or supernaturals either, quite frankly. It was going to take a special cleanup crew to get the job done, which HELLSING was more than happy to send over.

A boat was coming that would pick up the Phantomhives and drop off the cleaning crew, but they would not be the only ones on board. Given the hazardous cargo they would be bringing back to England, HELLSING's resident magical expert, Wink, was coming so that she could check and fortify the seal on Johnathan's bottle. To help take care of the situation, Dame Elizabeth Hellsing would be arriving as well.

The angel was there to observe the situation and help keep the boat safe, as the demons had spent all night working on this mission. After confirming things, she would decide what the best course of action to take with the diabolical object was. Certainly, she would offer it to Reaper Dispatch, as they tend to handle all things soul-related, but if they didn't know what to do with it, she would have to come up with something else.

In the meantime, it was guarded by the Guard Dog and his beau, the two of them taking turns keeping an eye on it while the other utilised the facility's showers. Ciel held it in his hand as he stood outside the door, keeping watch as the menace scrubbed the remaining blood and muck off of his body. Ciel, himself, was already clean and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, eagerly awaiting the call that the boat was nearby so that the mission could finally end.

It was right then that he regretted having torn off his eyepatch, as his face was fully exposed to every passerby. Worse, he looked like Johnathan, a tyrant and traitor of ORSAP. Luckily for him, that meant that people tended to avoid him, specifically going out of their way to go around him or avoid using that specific shower room entirely. Yet, he could still somehow sense a group of people who were loitering nearby.

Just around the corner, the supernatural trio of ORSAP debated on how to proceed. Ciel did his best to ignore them, but they made it difficult. Eventually, they peeked around the corner and one by one, dared to venture toward him. Damien lead the way as he was the least concerned, closely followed by his cohorts. Stopping in front of the Phantomhive, the warlock finally addressed him.

"Hello, uh… Lord Phantomhive." he greeted, feeling awkward about the title. "We just wanted to thank you and your husband for all of your help with the whole 'Johnathan' situation..."

"Yeah, thank you." Annie nodded.

"Thanks." added Hugo, staring at the Watchdog with wide eyes as he anxiously waited to see what he would do next.

"It's no trouble at all." Ciel answered back, offering a polite smile. "It was my duty to assist you."

Hearing him talk and seeing him move was still immensely strange to Annie and Hugo, having gotten used to the unnatural stylings of the man's impostor. He spoke French almost perfectly, as opposed to Johnathan's more clumsy and obviously English accent, and the way he moved felt like an actual person was in his skin. The glowing purple eye, however, admittedly threw them off a bit. He was strange and he was foreign to them, just like the blonde demon was, making him a bit frightening.

"Brittany is getting her stuff together and will meet you two at the front door." Damien informed him, trying his best to keep the conversation going. "I hope going back to England works out for her."

"I do too." Ciel replied simply, plunging them both into a bit of awkward silence.

"Sooooo..." the warlock began, rocking on his feet again. "Uh… I was wondering..."

"It's a faustian contract, in case you're wondering."

"I didn't mean to stare at it!" Damien urgently stated, waving his hands while pointedly averting Ciel's gaze. Coughing, he cleared his throat. "I was actually wondering if… Uh… Well, I'm still not very good at magic and there's a lot I don't know… So… I was wondering if there was a place in England where I could learn?"

"There's sorcerers all over the place in the supernatural cities. We even have a magical expert at HELLSING who's coming to fix the seal on Johnathan's bottle before we go. You should talk with her. I'm sure ORSAP needs someone who knows a thing or two about magic as well."

"I—wait, really?"

"Of course. Magical experts are invaluable assets to our operations. It would be extremely beneficial to yours if you studied it. You'll probably have a bit of trouble, unless you can find a teacher like Miss Saunders… It's important to be knowledgeable of both legal and illegal magic."

As seamless as his interaction seemed, Ciel was having a bit of trouble talking. He was still on the clock, so talking about work was a given, especially if it was to assist his fellow agents on this side of the channel. Thus, he did his very best to give Damien advice, all the while ignoring the stares of the other two supernaturals, who were very clearly astonished by the fact that Ciel looked like Johnathan, but wasn't. It was very clear to him that they had a million questions that they wanted to ask, but most of them could not be presented in a way that was acceptable in polite company. Rude was still rude, even when the questions were asked of demons.

Ciel very clearly had a much wider range of emotions than Johnathan, given that he was able to express more than a handful of sentiments. Annie and Hugo were especially stunned at how Ciel was able to be in a romantic relationship with Jim. The first half of the issue was Jim himself, as he established himself to them as a terrifying being who seemingly defied all logic, while the other half was the fact that even imagining Johnathan being romantically involved with someone was difficult. But Ciel was not Johnathan and Ciel was no ordinary demon.

Eventually, his beau finally joined him, freeing him from the attention of the group, as they unanimously decided that interacting with only one of them at a time was the limit of what they could handle. The duo remained professional and distant with each other, as they too, reached a consensus of their own. If they got too comfortable, they might just collapse before they got home. Business as usual, really. They sat side by side in the lobby, catching each other up on the events of that evening while they waited for the arrival of their allies. Brittany was the first to join them, however, touting a bizarrely small suitcase that contained all of the worldly possessions she had with her. It wasn't much, but she was hoping it would carry her for a little while.

She had toiletries and backup uniforms, but that was about it. She had a single civilian outfit to her name and she wasn't wearing it. Somehow, it felt alien to her, now, like she wasn't allowed to wear it. For quite some time, now, she wasn't. She wasn't allowed to wear anything but her uniform. The idea of not wearing one made her feel a bit nervous, like there would be consequences if she didn't, even now that she was going home.

"Home" still felt far away to her. It didn't really feel like she was actually going back. It hadn't sunk in, yet. She didn't really have a plan from then on. All she knew is that Jim told her that she'd be set up with a place to stay until they could get her back in with her family. Ah, her family… She didn't even know if they would take her back at all. If they didn't, then what? She didn't know.

She still didn't think a life in Gehenna was possible. Maybe Pyestock, if necessary. Maybe she could just change her name and try to start over. She didn't know. It was hard to think about. It was like her brain wasn't wired for thinking that far into the future anymore, nor could she really contemplate not taking orders. Would she go to school? Would she get a job? Maybe she wouldn't. Who could say? The future was ever expanding and frightening. It was best to think about what she was going to do in the next few minutes, instead.

Jim tried to talk to her about what she was looking forward to once she got back to England, wondering what her aspirations were, but she gave an answer more suited to a person of their world, instead. She looked forward to not getting attacked by supernaturals anymore. She looked forward to not having to shoot or bite or maim anyone anymore. That was all. It was obvious to Jim and Ciel both that she had been overexposed to the underworld. She was starting to think like a permanent resident, now. It would take time for her to readjust, and while neither of them thought that she was so far gone that it was impossible, they did suspect that there might be aspects about her current self that might never change.

She had to wait longer still when the HELLSING agents finally did arrive. Sanitation agents had to be given their orders and deployed and Wink had to check the seal on Johnathan's bottle. No one there thought it strange that one of the first things the crew did was load Johnathan's body into a truck so it could be hauled back to England on the boat for testing. The head of the research department was immensely excited about the prospect of studying what was essentially a corpse of Ciel. He didn't care. He just stood by while everyone did what they had to do, guarding the bottle while Wink tried to strengthen the seal. It was difficult and she could only strengthen it by a little, given that her idea to seal it in wax didn't work, due to the heat it emitted, but it was the best that could be done. Damien was immensely keen on watching her, while she was only slightly annoyed by the audience.

Then came time for everyone who was heading to England to pile into the truck with their new diabolical "treasures" and make their way to the boat HELLSING had waiting. Nervously, Brittany boarded the ship, only to find herself being treated kindly by the crew, much to her surprise. Jim laid down on a bench, his legs hanging off the side with his feet planted firmly on the ground as he relaxed for a moment with his eyes closed. For a while, Ciel joined him, sitting next to his head, watching Wink and Elizabeth talk about the thing they had brought with them. The look on his cousin's face made him nervous. Her brow was furrowed and her arms were crossed holding up the bottle to her view as she spoke to the witch.

Ciel stood, unable to relax at all. The mission wasn't done until the object was secure, as far as he could gather. Once the two women were done speaking, the Watchdog approached Elizabeth, dragging his feet along the floor as it rocked against the waves.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked, leaning against the wall. He was tired. It felt difficult to stand up.

"Well, 'hello,' to you, too." the woman teased, prompting him to timidly rub the back of his neck. "You look awful."

"I feel awful. A good night's rest should do me good." Ciel replied. "I'm just a bit nervous about the situation, is all."

"Well, from what I can tell, the likelihood of Johnathan escaping on his own is slim, so long as no one removes the lid, so you don't have to worry about that." Elizabeth said. "You picked a very good vessel for this."

"Not really… It's just what I had on me."

"Holy water from Notre Dame?"

"An American tourist gave it to me for stopping a pickpocket. Thought it might be useful, so I brought it along." Ciel shrugged, pausing as his eyes focused on the bottle. His brow furrowed. "Why did it turn black is what I want to know..."

"Souls are bundles of pure energy, so powerful that they can facilitate life. It's not surprising to me that they can create a reaction when interacting with something that is adverse to their nature. That's why the bottle is warm, too. It's alive..." The woman paused for a moment, her frown deepening. "But it is also suffering. The water is weakening Johnathan, preventing his ability to escape or effect anything outside of the bottle."

"I see… It wasn't my intention for him to suffer…"

"I don't know if it's causing him pain, per se… You need a body and a mind to do that. I'm not really sure what the long term effects this will have on his spirit, either. What I do know is that this water is no longer 'pure'. Mortals who are not divine or demonic should not come into contact with it."

"What's going to happen to it now?"

"I'll see if the reapers will take it, though I'm not sure if they'll be able to separate Johnathan from the object with their death scythes. If not, HELLSING will need to find a place for it. We've been putting aside funds for quite some time to build a mush safer place to house these things."

"Are diabolical objects safe at HELLSING?

"They are, but a few extra precautions won't hurt anyone. Some objects require special security so they can be contained. It's best to ensure that both staff and the general public is protected."

"I see..." Ciel trailed off, turning so his back was against the wall. He sighed as she stared back toward the bench his husband was laying on.

"Your involvement with Johnathan is over after this. You'll never have to hear or see him ever again." Elizabeth smiled, reaching out to pat the man on the shoulder. "Take a break after this. I'll clean up the mess with ORSAP and get them back up and running. We'll call Jim in a few weeks to help sort out the situation with the supernatural populace, once things are more stable. I'll start implementing some tried and true procedures in the meantime."

"Sounds good." the Watchdog sighed. He remained vigilant, although in truth, he felt dead on his feet. The relief he felt upon reaching England was insurmountable. Within a matter of hours, he would be back home after being debriefed and checking in on the bottle one last time. Jim passed Brittany on to the Supernatural Relations Department, explained her predicament, and signed a few documents. Thus, the two were on their way.

They didn't talk on the ride back home. The pair seldom did. Even though there were mountains of things to talk about and questions they both deeply yearned to ask each other about their experiences the previous night, neither of them could do it. The car ride home was time to decompress from their mission. It was the journey from their professional selves back to their normalcy. It was where they began the transformation back into ordinary people again as they started to recover from the stressful things they had seen and experienced. The silence was absolutely necessary as the hum of the engine and the rocking of the car was all they needed. Familiar landmarks outside of their protective bubble made them feel at ease as they drew closer, just as they had conditioned themselves to.

But when they reached home again, they let out a breath and put on their grand performance again. It was the act they always put on after returning home. To be absolutely clear: they both were always immensely glad to see their family again. That is why they needed to greet them with a smile and reassurance that they were alright. They deserved that. It was protection from the darkness that had just crept through their front door, as the transformation was not always complete by the end of the duo's journey. After easier missions, the smiles were often times true and came from the heart, but after more laborious or emotionally draining operations, Ciel and Jim sometimes needed to put on a show.

There were hugs and reassurances, but then always, without fail, the duo went up to their room, changed clothes, showered, and then collapsed. Having already showered at the ORSAP office, they could luckily skip that step. Laying on top of their covers, they gradually began to surrender the tension held within their bodies as they both seemed to begin melting into the mattress, refusing to move even the slightest for hours on end. By the time nightfall came, however, they were finally ready to go to bed. Placing his hands flat against the mattress, Ciel grunted and strained as he hoisted himself up, somehow managing to sit up with his feet hanging over the side of the bed. He sat for a moment, staring blankly into nothing while he searched for the will to stand up properly. When he found it, he looked back at his spouse and leaned over, balancing his weight on one hand as he reached over with the other and pat his beau on the shoulder.

"Hmmrn?" whined the menace, still laying flat on his face and finding himself unwilling to move.

"I'm going to take a bath." the bluenette announced. Taking a deep breath, Jim finally turned his head to face the other man.

"Didn't you shower already?" he asked.

"I want to soak. With bubbles. Are you going to bed?"

"I need to brush my teeth… You should do it for me."

"Can't, I'm afraid."

"You're mean to me." Jim playfully shot back before laying face down again. "Have fun."

"Mm-hm." the bluenette hummed before slowly making his way to the bathroom.

His body felt heavy, so he was slow in every movement he made. He was slow in turning on the faucet, he was slow in getting undressed, he was slow in putting his clothes aside to re-wear, and he was slow in actually getting into the tub, letting out a hiss as he sunk into the warm water and bubbles. Ciel was used to this sort of thing, but also felt like it wasn't equal to the injuries he acquired. Sure, he was shot a few times, lashed, and slashed, but the ache that seemed to permeate his entire being felt unearned. Perhaps it was his emotional exhaustion. He did defeat an entity that was specifically out to cause as much chaos in his life as possible while also mirroring the things he thought about himself and his past right back at him. Closing his eyes, Ciel sunk further into the tub, dunking his head below the water before coming back up. He slid his bangs out of his face as he felt water run down his forehead and cheeks. Ah, this bath felt earned.

Ciel wasn't a shower person. They were fine and good, especially when one didn't want to be soaking in water with blood and God knows what else, but he always preferred to bathe. Closing his eyes and letting the warmth surrounding him soothe his tired muscles and battered body was always nice. After missions, he could soak for hours, or at least until the water got cold. It was a good, soothing, and quiet place where he could think and breathe again. Sometimes, he simply shut out the noise in his mind. He could fall asleep in there. There were times when he did. The water refreshed him, making him feel calm and ready to sleep, but also cleansed him. It was an important ritual for after missions. When he got out, he felt ready face the dawn, having finally left the world of night for the time being.

His eyes snapped open as a knock came at the door. Blinking, he sat up slightly and rubbed his face, getting the access water out of his eyes. Sniffing, he called out: "Yes?"

"Can I brush my teeth?" Jim asked from the other side.

"Go ahead." Ciel replied. He didn't move. He knew that he didn't need to unlock the door. Really, there was no reason to bother with locking it, anyway. Jim Jimmy'd the lock open with no effort in the slightest and walked right in, shutting the door behind him before moseying over to the sink.

"Hey." he greeted, picking up his toothbrush. Turning on the faucet, he wetted it before putting toothpaste on it. "How's it going?"

"I don't feel too good, but that's par for the course, I think." Leaning back, Ciel let his head rest on the rim of the tub. "You?"

Jim couldn't answer with words, but he gave the Watchdog a thumbs up with one hand while he brushed his teeth with the other. The silence returned to the both of them, with only the sound of jim brushing his teeth being heard. Then, he spit and rinsed out his mouth, finally turning toward the other Phantomhive again.

"I'm okay." he finally said. "You don't need to worry about anything."

"I didn't think so, but I wanted to be sure." Ciel replied. "Did anything happen?"

"Apart from the brand? Eh, typical stuff. Punching, pistol-whipping… He was too much of a pansy for anything else. I freaked out a little on The Three Stooges, and maaaybe told them about my personal problems, but we were all swapping stories, so it's… Kind of a thing?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. One of them kinda got where I was coming from, so that was kinda nice… Well… Not 'nice' like 'it's nice you got some shit, too,' but y'know… It's good to see people like us making something for themselves, y'know?"

"'Like us?'"

"Fucked up people."

"Hmm… Yeah, I can see that."

"What about you?" Jim asked, leaning against the sink. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I don't know… Maybe later. I'm still sorting it out" Ciel paused and let out a sigh. "It feels small in comparison to being kidnapped, but Johnathan went out of his way to make it personal. I'm still not quite sure what I feel, yet."

"That's alright." the blonde answered, walking over to the side of the tub and crouching down. Leaning against the rim, he rested his chin in one of his palms while holding out the other. Lifting his hand out of the water, Ciel held it, prompting the blonde to chuckle. "I get it."

"You do." The Watchdog smiled slightly. The sound of water shifting filled the room as Ciel sat up a bit more and drew Jim's hand to his lips. "I'm still sorry I asked you to open your shirt."

"Yeah, that was a little embarrassing, but I get that, too. Like I said, I'm not keeping the scar. You don't have to worry, I'm not hurt by it."

"I was." Ciel said, kissing each of his beau's fingers. "That was the point, though. I almost lost myself over seeing that picture..."

"You didn't, though."

"How did you know?"

"You didn't act like it, of course. When you came up with that plan to seal Johnathan? You couldn't do that impulsively. Nobody can. If you went berserk, you would've killed him way before I got there."

"I suppose that's true..." Jim's smile widened as his beloved kissed his wrist.

"Then there's the way you reacted to seeing it in person. You didn't blow up. You just… accepted it? Then you hugged me like you always do, but just a bit 'more' than usual."

"Desperate?" Ciel jested.

"Mm… No. More… 'kind?'" the blonde speculated, looking up as he thought very carefully about it. "You're always kind when you touch me. Wait, that's kind of embarrassing..."

"I like being kind to you." his beau stated, smiling a bit wider as he kissed up the menace's forearm. Lifting his head, he closed his eyes and pursed his lips in the direction of his husband, smiling a bit as Jim leaned down to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Jim smiled as they parted, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks when he opened his eyes. "I'm glad you're alright."

"You were worried about me?"

"Well, I know how you can get when I'm captured… I kind of get the same way when it happens to you. But then Johnathan whipped out the branding rod and… I knew that was gonna get to you. I didn't know how much, but that was going to make you mad. I wouldn't stop smiling when he took the picture, though. I was trying to let you know I was okay."

"He cropped your face out."

"Bastard." Jim said with a sigh. "I'm okay, though."

"I know. I'm honestly a little surprised you're not upset that I didn't get more upset? Isn't the 'I would destroy the whole world for you' mentality considered a bit more romantic?" Ciel asked. The bubbles around him had died and the water was starting to turn cold, but he wanted to talk a little more.

"That's only for people who won't and can't ever come close to the reality." his beau stated, with a skeptical look. There was a strangely mundane quality to the way that he said that. But, it was the way things were for the Phantomhives. "I'd rather still have a husband than a burned out city. We've only been married for three years! That's nothing in demon time!"

"I figured as much." chuckled the Watchdog, turning his body slightly to face the other man better. "That's what I thought about while I was stifling my temper tantrum. I didn't want to leave you or the others behind. You're tough and can endure being captured, but I very quickly realised that me dying would upset you more. I didn't want to make you cry over nothing."

With a pause, Jim leaned down again and pecked Ciel's forehead. "I love you." he said, unsure as to how to really convey what he was feeling. He loved Ciel. That was it, really. He loved him and Ciel's funny sense of practicality was just one more reason as to why. He was a very thoughtful assassin, thinking about his husband's wants and needs, even in the heat of battle.

"I love you, too." Ciel replied with a smile. "I can't wait for our hundredth anniversary. We'll have to do something really special."

With Jim, the future always seemed so bright and wonderful. Yet, there were always times when the future weighed heavily on Ciel's mind and heart. There was always the unpredictable catastrophe lurking around the corner and he knew that he would have to juggle that along with his hopes. He was still growing accustomed to having hope for the future, even after all of this time with Jim. Yet while he was growing used to the bright, shiny, dreams of what was to come, he was also wrestling with the reality of his predicament. It weighed heavy on him, making his body ache for days to come.

* * *

**A/N: I rested my hand for a few days and then this thing came to fruition like, weirdly quick. The fuck?**

**Maybe I just REALLY wanted to write some fluff? Sounds realistic, tbh**

**I don't have much to say other than Johnathan's a little shit.**

**Miranda's gonna have a fuckin' field day, examining his body. This is the SECOND Johnathan body in the Research Department's freezer, now... Dude, calm down. They don't have a lot of space in there...**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	68. Through The Network

Ciel did not feel much better the next day, or the next, or the one after that. Feeling tired the day after a mission was normal, but this? This was strange. He still wasn't wanting to go back to work on his company, although he did try to get some work done. He just couldn't seem to focus, no matter what he did. By the fourth day, his spouse was especially concerned, as when he came back to their room from breakfast with a tray of tea and biscuits for his husband, Jim was stunned to find Ciel still in his pyjamas. The Watchdog was sitting on one of the sofas in the front room wearing the T-shirt and pyjama bottoms he had worn the night before. He hadn't even brushed his hair and he was lounging about without an eyepatch on. The latter wasn't too terribly unusual, but at this time of day along with everything else? It was odd.

"What are you doing?" the blonde asked, furrowing his brow and tilting his head while he sat the tray down on the coffeetable. "You're not dressed."

"So I'm not..." Ciel replied, not moving from his spot. "It's fine once in a while, isn't it? I haven't left the room or anything..."

"Yeah, but… That's kinda weird, too..." Sitting next to his husband, Jim paused, examining the other man's face for a moment. Then, he put his hand underneath his beau's bangs, pressing his palm into the man's forehead.

"What are you doing?"

"Are you sick, or something?" Jim asked. "Demons can't get sick, but is there some supernatural nonsense afoot?" Feeling nothing out of the ordinary, he took his hand away before cupping his husband's cheeks. "Is it Johnathan? Has he rattled your brains?"

"Sort of?" the Watchdog answered, allowing his beloved to touch him however he pleased. He wasn't bothered by it in the slightest. "Some of the stuff from that fight bothers me a bit. I'm still working it out."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet. I'm still figuring it out, a bit. I'd like to soon, though. It's something we ought to talk about together." Arching an eyebrow, Ciel paused. "That sounded much more ominous than I wanted it to. It's nothing life or death and our relationship has not been damaged in any way, so don't worry about it too much."

"You know I'm not going to stop worrying about it until I know what's up, right?"

"Of course. And I know it's a little selfish, but can I ask you to bear with it just a little while longer?"

Jim paused, nodding his head slightly as he took in the idea. He was worried, of course, but knew that there was far more at play here than he could fix with a few kind words. "It's not selfish." he said, pecking his husband on the cheek. "Take all the time you need. When you get it sorted, I'll be glad to listen or help any way I can."

"Thank you, Jimmy-darling." Closing his eyes, Ciel pursed his lips, inviting the other man to kiss him again. It was short, but it made him smile. Despite his lethargy and otherwise "strange" demeanor and feelings, Ciel was surprisingly smiley. Leaning forward, he poured himself a cup of tea and picked up the saucer, somehow managing to look posh, even with bedhead and pyjamas on. "Are you still going to see Kris and Dan today?"

"Yeah. We're going to swap intel at Dan's place." Jim replied, mirroring his beau's actions, but somehow managing to look ordinary, even though he was dressed.

"You mean gossip?" The bluenette let out a sigh after taking a sip of his tea. It was good. Relaxing. Sebastian probably made it.

"Oh, of course. Absolutely. We're still trying to figure out who's in charge of Travis' stag night. Audrey suggested strippers, so it's probably not going to be him."

"Never was a fan, myself, either…"

"You have any ideas?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, he and Patricia both graduate in the fall and the wedding's after that, so we've got time."

Jim kept his husband talking, trying to keep him from falling into lethargy and surprisingly, Ciel was following his lead. Whatever crisis Ciel was having, it was different this time. Jim didn't like it. He was glad that his beau seemed to be feeling alright, but he felt like whatever it was that was bothering him was hidden away and it made him nervous. It wasn't as though Jim had to know precisely what his husband was thinking and feeling at absolutely every moment of every day. That would take the fun out of loving him. They were separate people and he loved Ciel for who he was. He loved all of his little imperfections and could not fathom nor would he have him any other way. Yet, he knew the sort of messy, painful, feelings could be swirling just beneath the surface in Ciel and himself, both. The Watchdog would tell him in his own time. There wasn't a single doubt in Jim's mind about that. He trusted Ciel and had the sort of unbridled faith in him that he knew he could bet his life on. Still, he couldn't help but worry about him. His precious husband.

Until then, he would stay patient for him. There was so much about to happen around them. Travis and Patricia were both about to graduate from college and get married. They'd finally have married friends! Revy was going to move out on his own for the first time as soon as they got that house down the road fixed up. Luka was going to get his ears pierced. Geraldine and Samantha were going to go to college. Geraldine planned on getting an apartment, while Samantha was looking into dorms. There was so much to do and so much to look forward to! The future seemed bright and the world just kept on turning. Ciel, however, got quiet. He listened carefully and truly was genuinely enthused by all of this, but still, thinking about what was to come felt strange to him, these past few days.

"Am I bothering you?" Jim asked, snapping Ciel from his intense focus. He didn't want to be a pest, especially if the Watchdog wasn't feeling well. Blinking, Ciel somewhat stumbled on his reply.

"What? No… No. Not at all. I am completely fine."

"Really? Because your insistence makes me feel otherwise..."

"No! Jim, I adore you. And I'm looking forward to everything you're saying. There are no problems on that front, I promise. You're not bothering me."

"That so? I won't push it too hard, then." Jim replied, setting his now empty cup down and leaning back on the sofa, resting his arm on the back of the seat. "You'll tell me when you tell me and I accept that. That said, are you sure there's not anything else I can do for you in the meantime, though?"

Ciel paused, not really having an answer to that. He just liked being close with the menace. His hesitation, however, opened a door for him. Rather, Jim opened his arms.

"Would you like a cuddle?" asked the blonde. He could see that his beau was indeed tempted by the offer, but had a bit of hesitation about him.

"What about Dan and Kris?" he questioned.

"I'm not meeting them for another couple of hours. I've got time." Leaning back on the couch, Jim rested his head on the armrest on the opposite end of Ciel and patted his chest. "Come on, then. Here, boy!" Ciel rolled his eyes as the menace whistled at him, but nonetheless, he relented, crawling over to the other man and resting his head on Jim's chest. It was comfortable, but it almost always was.

It was strange, though. There was an odd mix of emotions inside of Ciel about seeking affection these days, but he was relenting, each time. Usually, neither of them were fond of physical affection immediately after a mission and it took another day or so before the duo returned to their normal selves, but Ciel, much to the surprise of them both, quite frankly, wanted it almost immediately upon decompressing. Even now, he sought it out with strange frequency, given how he usually was while he was in these moods. Ordinarily, he would shun intimacy in odd ways. He would never ask for it or initiate, and he certainly wouldn't cuddle against his beau's chest. It was as though he did not deserve it. Now, however, that didn't seem to be the case and neither of them were entirely sure what to do about it. Ciel thought he ought to feel bad on this front, but he just didn't. Instead, he found himself somewhat reveling in it, observing in himself just how utterly wonderful it was that he was able to feel affectionate toward someone else at all. A thought popped into his head, prompting him to chuckle.

"What is it?" Jim inquired, looking down at the bluenette with raised brows.

"Nothing, really." gently smiled the Watchdog. "I just remembered that there was once a time when doing this seemed inconceivable. My pride simply wouldn't allow it."

"What? Being the one cuddled?"

"Yeah. It's lovely." Ciel replied, nuzzling into the other man's shirt. "My old self was definitely a fool."

He sighed as Jim stroked his hair, relaxing against the blonde's body. The whole situation baffled Jim immensely, but he was glad that Ciel was relaxing, at the very least. It made it a bit difficult for him to leave, actually. Asking Ciel to move seemed cruel, somehow, but he still had promises to keep elsewhere.

The menace was sure to dote on his beau before he left, bending down to cup the bluenette's cheeks and peck his face all over. Jim knew full well just how scary Ciel could be. They were in the same line of business, after all, and immediately upon meeting one another for the first time, Ciel decided to murder him. He was an incredibly frightening and powerful man that made the criminals of the United Kingdom quiver with fear, all the while being the only demon in the world to have a vast network surrounding him where he could influence both powerful humans and supernaturals alike. Yet, at the same time, Jim absolutely adored how cute he could be. Ciel had been being incredibly sweet to him for the past few days and Jim couldn't help but shower him with attention and affection as well. He actually felt a bit bad at finding the Watchdog "cute" in this state, but he was an immense sucker for the bluenette when he wasn't wearing his eyepatch. He was a sucker for him with it as well, but that was the excuse he told himself as he finally pried himself away and set off, bidding his beau farewell.

It was an immensely important meeting that Jim had to attend. Both Kristopherson Miles and Daniel Westley were not just the blonde's friends, but they were also prominent members of the community. While the day was known as "gossip day," it was not simply "just," it was when all three of them got together and shared intel. As the de facto head of the Supernatural Relations Department, it was important for Jim to know what was going on at the ground level.

That, and it was fun. They didn't just talk about things going on in the community; they talked about things going on in their lives and the lives of their extended friend group as well. Ordinarily, Jim would just swing by Kristopherson's shop and have a chat, but today, there was so much going on, that they called an official meeting. As such, it was out of the question to not invite Daniel. They simply had to. It was rude, otherwise, and also, they simply enjoyed his company. Moreover, he had a few things going on in his neck of the woods, and both Jim and Kristopherson wanted details.

They all gathered around in the small kitchen area in Daniel's flat, sitting at the table while Jim sat on the counter. Not enough chairs. Daniel made them all tea, handing Jim a cup before taking a seat at the table.

"That was a big sigh." Daniel observed as the menace stared into his cup. "Mission go okay?"

"Missions on that scale never do, but it was fine. It's fine." the menace replied, knocking back the beverage as Mister Westley looked on in horror.

"You don't sound 'fine.'" Kristopherson replied, casually ignoring the obvious.

"That tea is scalding hot..." the human winced as he watched his demonic friend.

Finishing it in one go, Jim let out another deep breath. A faint gust of steam escaped his mouth in the process. "I got captured again. I'm okay. I'm over it already."

"Oof… You sure?"

"Seriously? Are we just going to ignore that? The steam? Hello?" Daniel questioned. "Whatever… I give up..."

"I got branded, but it's really not enough to bother me. The problem is Ciel..." Jim started to explain.

"He not take kindly to that?" asked the wolfman with an arched brow.

Crossing his legs on the counter, the menace set the cup down beside himself. "Of course not. He was super not okay with it, but then? He just kind of… got over it? I can't tell if that bothers him more than defeating a long-time enemy who caused an international scene while prancing around in a clone body of himself, or if it's the other way around… He's kind of having an existential crisis."

"Is it Thursday already?" Kristopherson mused while blowing on his own cup.

"I'm serious! It's super weird this time! Instead of the angst he almost seems…? Happy? Relieved? He's been smiling, joking, acting affectionate, and has been overall chill."

"Why is that a problem?" Daniel finally chimed in. "He sounds fine."

"You don't know him like I do, though. He's been lounging around the house… In his pyjamas!"

"Still not following..."

"I think he's saying that Ciel usually has such a stick up his ass that he never has a lazy day." Kristopherson suggested.

"Ohhh… I can see that. That would make it weird. Look, Lois, maybe he's just tired after the mission and needs a little R&R?"

"Yeah. Johnathan was kind of a big deal. Fighting him again must've taken a lot out of him."

"It's not that. I'd know if it was that." the blonde insisted, rubbing his chin. "What I need to figure out is what is it specifically about the fight that bothers him… So far, I'm leaning toward the fact that he had a literal, monsterous, reflection of himself serving as a grotesque representation of his past crimes against humanity."

"You lost me with 'grotesque representation...'" Kristopherson replied.

"It's not really the sort of thing ordinary people would get, I'm afraid." the menace replied.

Daniel let out a sigh, clutching his chest. "Oh, thank God..." he said. "I thought you weren't going to say anything. I'm sorry, I'm lost… But I do care about your feelings and am concerned about Ciel."

"Working on the communication thing, Dan?" Mister Miles inquired, arching an eyebrow at Mister Westley.

"It's something I've been working harder on. Turns out, it makes things a lot easier in relationships! Who knew? I've also learned a lot about sorcery, lately."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I still don't know if moonwater would make a werewolf transform if they drink it, but Ted's coming around to the idea of trying it out someday."

Jim sighed. This sort of thing was always difficult to talk about with his friends. While they had dipped their toes into his world on occasion, they were still very much rooted in this one. Truly, he understood that they were sympathetic and concerned—he didn't have any doubt about that—but he also felt as though he was unable to talk about certain things sometimes. Like this, they didn't understand.

"Have you tried talking to Travis about it?" Kristopherson questioned, bringing Jim back into the conversation.

"What?"

"I said, 'have you tried talking to Travis?'" the wolfman repeated, plucking a biscuit from the package in front of him. "He's good at that deep stuff. We're smart, too, but he's..." He paused, waving his hand around as he tried to think of how to explain himself. "Like that? He might be able to help you figure it out."

That was somewhat true, Jim supposed. Now, all three of them there were all intelligent people, but were perhaps not the best suited for this line of thought. Kristopherson was a brilliant fashion designer with a sharp eye for fashion retail and Daniel was a genius when it came to music, despite only utilising his talents during open mic night at the Wolf's Glen, very recently. Jim himself was smart enough to take down Ciel when they first met and was even able to weasel his way into an Earldom despite being a lowly commoner of the age of twelve or so—something that grown men tried and failed at with great frequency during those times. He was even able to head the Supernatural Relations Department and be one of the minds behind the inception of Gehenna. Yet still, even after all of that and despite his hard-earned and meticulously cultivated level of emotional intelligence, he wasn't the most poetic of people. Ordinarily, he found it easy to see what his beau was getting at and where he was coming from, but this time, the pattern changed. He needed to learn how to read this, but didn't really know where to start.

It was a thought and the more Jim thought about it, the more he thought it might be worth a shot. "He's busy though, isn't he?" he asked. "He's graduating in a few months and still has a wedding to plan. He probably doesn't have time to focus on that stuff, right?"

"Can't hurt to try it." Daniel replied. "Just give him a call or pop 'round his place. We need someone to go over the restaurant suggestions for the stag party. They're all upscale, so we need to get the reservation sorted sooner than later."

"They're all kosher, right?" asked Jim.

"No… One of them is, but the rest just have kosher options or 'are willing to honour all religious food restrictions on request,' whatever that means." the Westley replied. "I had no idea there were so few options out there… And I thought I had problems finding nut free options!"

"Do they not tell you?" Kristopherson inquired.

"Sometimes, they say shit's nut free when it isn't, think I'm lying, or don't understand what 'nut allergy' means. Silver lining is, I can cook for myself pretty well these days."

"You cook?"

"Yeah, I took a class like Jim did. It's easier to keep the allergies under control and I'm also tryin' to… Uh… Y'know… Watch my weight a bit."

"Why don't we check for that too, while we're at it."Jim suggested, getting up and walking over to the table, picking up the slip of paper they all were writing on. "We can call these places up and check, right? Any other allergies we need to worry about?"

"How much silver is in the cutlery?" the wolfman asked.

"Right. Right." nodded the demon, writing it down.

"Can't you just wrap a napkin around the handle or something?" Daniel inquired, arching his eyebrow as he looked across the table at the other man.

"I could, but that won't help me much if I put it in my mouth, will it?"

"Ah, that makes sense."

"Anybody else?" Jim chimed in again. "What about Audrey?"

"Don't know..." Daniel said, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket. "I'll text him real quick and check."

"Right. What else is out responsibility?"

"The bride her friends are handling most of the decorations, flowers, invitations, and that sort of thing—along with Travis' mum, to keep things in line with a Jewish service-while Travis, his mum, and Patricia are handling the ceremony and everything that entails..." Kristopherson said, reading off his own notes on the subject. "All that's really been assigned to us is the stag party… I've been put in charge of his suit, so that's going to be taken care of.. Oh, and I called him, he says he is absolutely okay with demons at the wedding as long as no supernatural nonsense goes down."

"I will do my very best." the menace answered, sitting back down on the counter. "What else? Any security for this thing?"

"Why would there be security?"

"You never know. Shit happens."

"Yeah, apparently, some of the Catholics aren't too happy about the whole thing." said Daniel.

"Well, they can get the fuck over it, it's not their wedding." Kristopherson shrugged. "That's Travis and Patricia's drama to sort out. I know her mum wasn't too happy about it, but we set her and Patricia loose to look at dresses from my mum's bridal collection and she seems happy, for now. Does Travis even want security?"

"I'll ask." Jim stated, adding it to his own list of things to do. "I'll make sure he has it."

"Do you have to make it sound so ominous?" Kristopherson questioned.

"If he wants it!" the demon corrected. "God, Kris, not everything I say is a threat. You're so bigoted."

"Kris is an assassiphobe." Daniel laughed.

"I definitely am not, I assure you…" shook the wolfman. "Asses are wonderful."

"You're phobic against assassins."

"I assure you, I don't mind. I just don't want to see it."

"Wow, Kris… Wow..." The Phantomhive looked up at him from his perch, shaking his head as he spoke in a faux-serious tone. "You think you know someone and they turn out to be against your very existence."

"In all fairness, you could get a different job, couldn't you?" inquired the human.

"Oh! Oh! You too, Dan? You too? Some friends you are… Asking me if I can just stop killing people for money… It's an important part of who I am!"

The other two men burst out into laughter while the menace did his best to keep a straight face. "Holy shit, Jim..." laughed Daniel, causing Jim to finally crack a smile.

"I'm here, to instill fear, get used to it!"

After deciding that there wasn't any more they could add to their meeting in relation to matters that… actually mattered, the group decided to save their efforts until after they talked to Travis to see if there was anything more that he needed from them. After that, the meeting devolved into more banter and more gossip. Somehow, it managed to perk the Phantomhive right up. It distracted him from the things that were bothering him for a moment, but as soon as he got in his car and started driving to the next location, he started to remember again. Hopefully, Travis would have something to say that would help him, but immediately upon arriving at the small, London townhouse that Mister Sullivan lived in, Jim doubted that.

Upon ringing the doorbell, Jim stood on the stoop for quite a while before someone finally came to answer the door. Travis answered it looking rather knackered. The man was dressed, but had very clearly been taking a nap when Jim interrupted him. Blinking a few times, Travis rubbed his eye.

"Hey, Jim." he greeted. "What's up?"

"Sorry to drop in on you unannounced..." the menace replied, digging in his pocket for the piece of paper he needed. "This a bad time? I just got back from meeting with Kris and Dan, and was going to drop off the list of options for the stag dinner, but I could've just texted you it."

"No, no, it's fine. Come in." Mister Sullivan insisted, gesturing for the demon to follow him inside. Ordinarily, this would have been a bad idea, but since it was Jim, he felt fairly certain that it would be fine. "I'll put the kettle on."

"How're you holding up?"

"Fine? Not fine?" Travis let out a tired sigh as he walked through his own house to the kitchen. "I stayed up all night writing a million-page-long paper. Pretty much collapsed after classes today."

"S'why you're the one actually graduating from college and I am not."

Jim sat at the other man's kitchen table, actually getting a chair this time while Travis made tea. Travis' house was extremely posh in comparison to their other friends. This was his childhood home, although it had been renovated. It was modern, making Jim feel a bit out place as he was used to his own home's more historic charms. His house was spotless and the large table he ate at had the right amount of chairs for it at it despite only two people living there. Travis was the only one left from the demon's Warwick days to still have income from his parents, despite being a rather successful author. He was rich. He was _rich_ rich, somewhat like Ciel. His father was a former professional wrestler and his mother wrote novels, but both of them worked at the jewelry company that Missus Sullivan had inherited from her own father. Jim had forgotten what this world was like for a moment, so sitting in this house made him feel a bit out of place. It wasn't like his husband's unusual brand of posh at all.

"I heard you and Ciel got back from a mission in Paris." Travis offered, starting up a conversation while the water heated up. "Beautiful place. I've been there a few times."

"I didn't get to see much of it this time around, but I saw it when Ciel and I were on our honeymoon." Jim replied. "I'll probably be going back soon for more work."

"Did it go alright?"

"Yeah. The mission was a success, but we're both still… In that weird, transitional phase where we're both kind of..." Waving his hands about, the menace tried to come up with the right word.

"Not quite back mentally yet?" Travis suggested.

"Yeah. That. Usually, if the mission is sort of routine, it just takes us a day, but this time? Oof… It was gonna be a doozy, since it's an international mission, but then I got captured, and Ciel fought Johnathan… It was like… a whole thing."

"I can't imagine. I don't envy you one bit, Jim Phantomhive, your life is far too exciting for me."

"I get that a lot." sighed the menace while the other man arranged biscuits on a plate.

"Maybe we won't have our honeymoon in France..." Travis joked.

"Do Jews go on honeymoon?"

"Not really, but having a Christian wife has it's perks." Picking up the tray with tea, biscuits, and the other essential ingredients, Travis walked over and set it down again on the table. Picking up one of the cup and saucers, he gently placed it in front of Jim. "We're going to be partying for a week and then afterwards, take some time for ourselves. We debated on Spain, but haven't decided yet."

"Sounds warm. Are you gonna go in the Spring?"

"Not sure. Might be less crowded if we can brave the winter, so that might be nice."

"Ah… Tell me how it goes. I'm not brave enough to go into Catholic territory."

"Catholics, amirite?"

"Horrible. Just horrible, those Catholics." Jim shook his head while the both of them laughed. When it quieted down, Jim was left smiling down into his cup.

"Y'know, that whole conflict over in Paris was caused by Iscariot being pushed out of power." he said. "It's a right mess. Not too thrilled about having to go and clean it up, if I'm honest, but what can you do? I'll definitely make it back in time for you, though. I'll make a runner, if I have to."

"Nah, don't worry about it if you can't make it. World peace comes first."

"No, no, I'm not missing it! I mean it! I'm going to everyone's weddings. This is the second wedding I've ever gone to and I'm really excited to go!"

"Second including yours?"

"No, I went to the wedding of a pair of HELLSING agents a while back."

Travis paused, nodding his head. "I'm waiting for the supernatural punchline."

"There is none. Just some of the supernatural agents. This is my first time going to a human wedding, though… that's also a straight one… that's also Jewish… Lot of firsts, actually."

"I hope to see you there. Looking forward to having married friends. Does this mean that we're automatically not cool to the others, or..?"

"Ooh, yeah..." The menace sucked air through his teeth while sarcastically answering his friend. "I have the whole 'demonic assassin' thing going on to keep me cool, but yeah, I guess you're just basically fucked? It was nice knowing you, though."

"PTA meetings, here I come..." Mister Sullivan chuckled, taking a sip of his drink before setting it carefully on the saucer and lowering it back down to the table. "So how is the Earl?"

"Oh, y'know… He's just defeated Johnathan so… Yeah, he's having a bit of an existential crisis."

"Is it that time of the week, or..?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"I'm kidding." Travis laughed, waving his hand. "How's he holding up?"

"I… I dunno. It's different, this time." Peering down into his cup, Jim watched his reflection as his brows furrowed a bit in thought. "He's like… Calm about it? He's still smiling and he's being very affectionate, which is kind of weird, since that usually doesn't happen when he's like this. Normally he's mopey… Johnathan was running around in a clone body of his, so he was like, fighting him while also fighting himself? Then Johnathan turned into a big monster and… yeah. I don't know why that's affected him differently."

The other man sat there, listening in silence. He stayed that way for a while even after Jim was done talking, just wrapping his head around the bizarre scenario that had been presented to him. It was a lot. Really, it was a lot, but it was the sort of nonsense that tended to happen around the Phantomhives and it was the sort of nonsense that Travis somehow seemed to have the inexplicable ability to handle calmly. In truth, it surprised him each time, with each new nonsense making him feel less prepared for the next, but after taking a while to think about it, like all of the other times he had been presented with a supernatural problem, he let go of the conventions of his own world and tried to understand the other, allowing the absurdity to wash off his back so that he could address the actual issue.

"That's tough." he said nonchalantly. "I'm not psychologist, but if this were a story, a person seeing their own dark reflection has only a few outcomes. Since he's behaving in a way that is typically 'positive...'" Travis trailed off, waving his hands as he tried to coax the idea out of his mouth. "Maybe he somehow took away something positive from it."

"Could be..." nodded the demon. "But what?"

"I don't know him like you know him." Mister Sullivan answered. "You tell me. Why would seeing that make him feel pleasant?"

"It's not just pleasant, it's… conflicted. It's like… Maybe he feels better about things, but… I dunno… It doesn't feel right, somehow… It's foreign territory..."

"For him or for you?"

"For..." Jim trailed off, thinking hard. "Don't know. I have no idea what he's thinking or feeling this time. It's… a bit scary, really."

"To you? Scary?" Travis questioned with an unconvinced look on his face.

"Things can get bad really quickly. Especially when you're… y'know… carrying some baggage. It's like you can trip and it all spills out in the worst ways."

"Good metaphor. I think you know a lot more than you realise, but more importantly, you want to take care of him, right? You just don't know how at the moment and it's sort of thrown you for a loop, hasn't it?"

"Pretty much..." Jim sighed. "So… If you were writing this in one of your books, how would it go?"

"With you talking and working it out together. Ciel's an interesting character, but I can't make assumptions about real people like that. Sorry. I wish I could help more."

"You've helped a lot actually..." the menace nodded, finally looking up at the other man. "Have you ever considered going back to school to be a therapist."

"Absolutely not. I get enough drama through you lot."

* * *

**A/N: Greetings, duckies. Behold. It is I, the most hateful of weasels... I have returned to give you a nonsense.**

**I have to take a final exam soon so I ended this kinda abrupt. It'll be fine. I just didn't want to leave y'all hanging for another week.**

**Also, I REALLY hope I don't get anything wrong with Travis... Searching Google and watching documentaries can only get you so far without having the cultural capital, so if I ever like, blatantly fuck up when it comes to Jewish traditions, please let me know, alright? I'm still not quite sure how this wedding is gonna go. I'm still reading up on it. There's just a lot of details that are specific to certain denominations and parsing through them as an outsider and figuring out which ones would probably be used by this character is not something that comes naturally or obviously to me. It's really not a thing I can fuck around with and just choose whichever traditions I think are cute or fun or whatever, so I'm taking it seriously, BUT, that doesn't mean that I'm not gonna make any mistakes ever. I might need a little help catching and correcting them.**

**I do have a few questions, actually, but I'm going to read a bit more on it before I resort to embarrassing myself lmao. (They are VERY dumb questions, I assure you uwu) Mostly like, little details like "how many times to we change locations for each of these steps and how far is a reasonable distance between those locations?" because when watching footage of it and reading about it, they kinda cut that bit out.**

**Anyway...**

**That's about it for what I have to say for now... **

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	69. Trapped In The Future

Jim wasn't the only one who was concerned about the Watchdog's strange behaviour. The other members of their household caught on quickly and for the most part, left the Phantomhive to his own devices while he shuffled around the mansion. Ciel had finally managed to get dressed and leave his room, and after his spouse left for the day, he began to wander about seemingly aimlessly. He moved slowly, looking at each and every photograph and painting on the walls.

Some were purely decorative, while others captured moments in the family's history. There were paintings of the previous Earl and Countess that Ciel had decided to take back out of storage and display fairly recently, as well as his grandfather and his grandfather's father. He took them down a long, long, time ago, as he was eager to claim the Phantomhive legacy as his own. They stayed locked away until a while after he had gotten married, as his ideas shifted on the matter. Now, in this very moment as he looked up at them, he found them strangely humourous. All of these proud, dead, men posed for these portraits long ago, knowing that their descendants would look upon them one day. It was leaving their mark on the house, but none of them had any idea that the family would end up like this. Despite their dark past and dubious line of work, never would they have ever imagined that one day, their house would be a den of demons, and that the Earl who carried their name would ignore tradition and convention day in and day out. For a while, in his darkest days after he had succeeded in gaining his revenge, Ciel felt as though the Phantomhive legacy had died with Vincent, as he himself had destroyed it. He rebuilt it once before, destroyed it, and now, he was rebuilding it again.

There was a portrait of himself and Elizabeth from back when they were betrothed, himself and Sebastian, and of his servants. They were all copies old, old, photographs. The originals were kept in special storage, now, but one of these was the last portrait of him from when he was human. He couldn't remember which. Such a sour look on his face he had back then. It would have angered his former self immensely to know that looking at it made the Watchdog chuckle. "You're on your way." he thought to himself, perhaps finding it funnier than he should have.

He kept that look on his face in photographs of him in France when he was in exile and in his officer uniform from back during the war. It stayed with him through the fifties and sixties, but it kept changing slightly. He seemed tired. He supposed that he was.

Colour slowly seeped into the images as they switched from older to newer. They were all mixed together, it seemed, but seeing them side by side only made the shifting of his own expression more obvious as he grew more weary. There were some photos from school with the friends he made at Warwick. They had changed a lot, too. Time caught up with everyone, it seemed. Travis didn't have his beard, Daniel was such a goofball, Kristopherson was a skinny thing, Audrey always wore his hair in front of his face with that beanie on his head, and Preston… Preston was still alive.

It felt strange seeing his image hanging on his wall. This Preston was forever smiling inside of its frame, while he no longer existed in this world with everyone and he and the Watchdog departed on foul terms. Ciel wondered what would have happened if he had met Johnathan. It was hard to imagine, but knew it wouldn't have been good, no matter what. They couldn't be more different, however. Johnathan chose his fate, while Preston kept running from his. He feared death like all humans did, so he sought help from demons. From there, he made mistake after mistake as the Black Annis warped his mind until he had nowhere left to run anymore. Ciel harboured no ill will toward him. He missed him, sometimes.

Humans die, though. It would happen to all of his human friends eventually. He would be sad to see that. He could not join them, just like he couldn't join his servants from back in the day. But he knew that he would remember them—at least, he hoped he did. There may come a day where he may no longer remember the sound of their voices or every detail about them, just as he could no longer remember that of Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive, but he would always remember that they were important to him and the feelings he felt when they were around. They made him happy. They were his first real friends in a long, long, time and he was going to cherish them the best he could, he decided, even if all he had left of them was a photograph of them hanging out in their old uniforms after school.

Then, there were photos of his current family. There were photos of Luka when he was little and photos of Revy before he had all of those piercings. He never seemed to have the same hair colour in a photo twice, much to Ciel's amusement. They were both good kids. Luka was still a good kid, even though he seemed to be growing up much faster than Jim really wanted him to. He was entering the rebellious teen years and Jim was not happy about it.

Then, there was Jim himself. Watching him progress through the photos was interesting as well, filling the Watchdog with both a sense of happiness and pride, but also sadness. Jim's expressions had changed over the years as well. He was always affectionate, although perhaps not for the right reasons, but he had grown older and wiser, more confident and self-certain, but also softer. Time had softened them both a bit and it showed. Jim knew what it felt like to be loved and taken care of and it showed on his face.

There were few portraits of him from the early days, however. There were few to begin with and fewer that survived the passage of time. There was a grainy photograph of him standing in front of the Trancy Estate and an official portrait that now hung in the hall. Ciel commissioned Logan for a custom frame for it and it served as the sole likeness of "Earl Alois Trancy." Jim always had complex feelings about the portrait. On the one hand, he liked having a picture of himself from back when he was a human, but yet, he always described the look on his face as "sick." He smiled in the portrait, but it was one that hinted at having peered into the abyss. It was indeed the "sickest" image of him that he owned. Still, it hung next to a painting of Ciel from those days so at least they could compare somewhat.

Nearby were photos of their wedding. They had a special album for them, but they also had a few copies for around the house. It was nice to compare those paintings to image of the both of them being genuinely overjoyed. While it made the bluenette feel a bit silly, there were actually multiple copies of the same images in more than one place around the manor. It was the first time that they had ever been "professionally" photographed together, even if it was Audrey who took the photos. They were some of Ciel's favourites and unbeknownst to him, he accidentally made it obvious.

Since then, they had a few more photos taken, with Ciel insisting that they get one as the Lord and Baronet of the estate. They became official, and Ciel was enthused to treat themselves that way. Much to the blonde's embarrassment, Ciel even commissioned a painter from Gehenna to paint an official Phantomhive portrait of him after he became a Baronet. The more Ciel looked around, the more he realised just how much he actually doted on his beau. He was not ashamed, however. He was a gentleman and gentlemen treat their spouses with utmost respect. Anyone who challenged him on this was less of a man.

He had looked through almost everything. He had seen the history of this family unfold before his very eyes, but that just left what was to come to worry about. What sort of images would appear on these walls, on these side tables, and shelves? Would Ciel always keep his wedding photo on his desk or would he update it at some point? He didn't know. He didn't know if he liked that he didn't know or not. It felt frightening, yet made him curious. Ciel hoped that there would be more memories his odd little family would put on the wall. Come to think of it, he needed to find an excuse to acquire and place an updated photograph of Finny somewhere, didn't he? Perhaps there would be new editions to the family as well? The thought made Ciel a bit nervous.

It was sunny that day. He squinted his eye a bit as he stepped into the garden, deciding a stroll and some fresh air would help. It did and it didn't, but he still hoped. Finnian and Jim had done a good job with it. Jim gave it a little bit of magic to help the flowers grow and Finny maintained it, glad to be working out in the sun again. It was nice to have a gardener for the mansion again. He could see Finnian working, crouched by one of the flower beds, plucking weeds. Ciel couldn't see his golden head of hair, but he saw his sun hat. It was a pleasant sight, even though the Watchdog didn't have anything to say to him right then. Instead, he decided to carry on walking, leaving the gardener to his work.

The scenery was idyllic. The garden was a paradise, even in winter when none of the flowers were in bloom. Ciel felt the sun's warm rays brushing against his cheeks as as he was surrounded by colour. Birds sang in the nearby woods and the sound of rushing water from water features serenaded the Lord as he examined his domain. Honeybees buzzed around his flowers, but they did not bother the Watchdog. Even they had a place, here. He bore them no ill will.

Arriving at the gazebo on the property, he took a seat at the table underneath it and looked back across the land he travelled at his house. A content sigh escaped him as he relaxed into his chair. This was really his life, wasn't it? Ciel felt it was silly to think it, but that thought crossed his mind on occasion. His world was one of dark catacombs, sweat, gunpowder, death, pain, and blood, but it was also this. It was tranquil. It was scenic. Beautiful. It was the sort of thing that people would kill for. Well, at least people would say that they would. Ciel actually has and he seldom regretted it. It wasn't personal, it wasn't vengeful, but it also wasn't wasteful or petty. It was business and Ciel still had to reconcile with that from time to time, yet even though he could enjoy all of this beauty and abundance, and although this place was indeed home to him, he could never stay like this. He would always miss the feeling of the handle of a blade or gun in his hand. It was comfortable and in many ways, made him feel much safer than living in this calm ever could.

He couldn't stay forever, but he always loved coming back here. It was his dominion—his fortress. Here, he was able to come back out of the muck and the grim for a little while, despite the things that had happened here. He knew that it wasn't perfectly safe. He of all people would know that well. It wasn't logical or consistent, but it didn't have to be. Certainly, he grew anxious from time to time, but he'd just check his defenses and make adjustments before getting back to the old grind. These days, he was surrounded by people who understood and actually encouraged him to do things that made him feel safe. If that meant replacing all of the windows with bulletproof glass, that was just how it was going to be.

Another sigh escaped him. A peculiar feeling came over him, but it was not at all one that was unfamiliar to him. It was a sudden bout of nostalgia. That was how the garden made him feel. These days, he didn't squash these feelings, but it didn't make him feel any better. There were times when he found himself yearning for his old life. Many of the pieces had been lost to time as his memories began to fade with age, but he never forgot the feelings. Even though he could not remember his parents' voices, there were times where he could imagine them in the garden-almost always in the garden—even though it was always ever-changing, it still felt like the place that changed the least as time went on. He could imagine his mother with her parasol watching him and Elizabeth play together and his father sitting beside her. The gazebo had been replaced since then, but still, Ciel wondered what it would be like if they sat at that table with him. What would they say? What would they thing about the state of the family, now? What would they think about him? Would they be proud? Disappointed? He would never know. The previous Earl and his Countess existed so, so, very briefly in his past and had no place in his present. In the future, it would be more of the same. It was a sad thought, but one that Ciel had long since accepted.

Leaning his head back so that it rested on the back of his chair, Ciel closed his eyes, resting his elbows on the chair's arms while folding his hands across his stomach. He crossed on leg over his opposite knee and took a deep breath as he took in the sounds and sensations around him. He sighed, thinking about how nice the light breeze felt against his skin. It ruffled his hair a bit and he could feel it blowing through the cotton fabric of his shirt, but it wasn't strong enough to pierce his eyepatch. What a shame. It got hot under there. Still, he felt an overwhelming sense of tranquility. There was no evil afoot for the moment, no drama or suspense, and he was able to just sit there, undisturbed, without a single care in the world apart from the fact that his eyepatch wasn't well ventilated. Maybe some wind-chimes would be nice, there? He should have Sebastian or somebody install some. No silver spoons, fine china plates, or glass chandeliers could compare to that luxury.

His eye fluttered open after a while. How long had he been sitting like that? Five minutes? Fifteen? It felt like he had fallen asleep. He sensed himself being approached, however, prompting him to finally look up.

"Damn, I thought I was gonna be able to sneak up and annoy you." Jim called out as he approached the steps of the gazebo.

"I wouldn't nap out here unguarded." Ciel reminded. Regardless, he lazily stretched his arms above his head before leaning back again. "How was Kristopherson and Daniel?"

"They were good. Dan's a little worried by how much time Sam spends at her little girlfriend's house, though."

"Guilty conscience." jested the Watchdog. Tilting his chin upwards, he accepted a peck on the lips from his husband before the man took a seat as well, scooting it closer to him.

"How're you?"

"Good. Enjoying the view."

"Finny does good work, doesn't he?" The blonde asked, leaning back in his own seat. "Rumour has it that Sebastian quite likes having one less thing to take care of."

"I don't blame him. Even having a small staff was probably appreciated, even though he had to clean up quite a few of their mistakes."

"They were good bodyguards and assassins, though, weren't they?"

"The best. That's what I was really paying for, so I was never too terribly bothered. It's difficult to find people like that these days…"

"Charlotte and Amelie were pretty good."

"That's true. HELLSING paid more, though, and used those skills more often. I don't blame them at all for going for it." Ciel replied. He paused and let out a sigh. "Maybe someday… This place is getting more and more lively all the time, now. It's nice."

Jim didn't really know how to respond to that, so he paused, choosing a hum in agreement before answering. "Maybe someday." he said, "Could be nice."

"I don't really think we should have as many as there used to be when I was small." continued the Watchdog, gesturing about. "There's not much need for it and there's only so many people you can let in on the whole 'the master of the house isn't human' thing. Just a handful should suffice."

"Are you really alright with letting people inside?"

"Not sure… I'm just thinking out loud, I suppose. I would like to make sure that the mansion is absolutely secure before we start having children." he spoke with conviction, letting the menace know that he was, at the very least, serious about the latter part. "I played in this garden and so will my children, only this time, it will be safe, rather than just appearing so." Ciel's attention was grabbed, however, when the menace laughed at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. You're just so serious..." Jim giggled, grinning as he brought a hand up to his mouth. "I don't know why, but I can imagine you very clearly as a dad."

"Oh, really? How am I?"

"Brilliant." the menace stated. "Really hardcore and very anxious, but I also imagine you having a lot of love for them. You're tough, you know what's up, but you're also a big softie, you know that?"

"Really? You never told me that, before." Ciel chuckled while rolling his eye. His smile faltered, however. "I've been worried about how I'm going to balance it all, lately." he sighed. "I'm still not quite sure how to balance them both within myself, and that's something I'm going to have to figure out, first, I think."

His husband paused, examining the Watchdog's face carefully, gauging what he could be feeling before he answered. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

"Yeah." Ciel said. "Sort of… Only part of it, really." Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs and folded his hands together as he looked out at the garden in front of him. "Jim… I think I might be an alright person."

Jim felt bad for laughing. It came to him as an involuntary reflex that he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried to choke back the sound. Air hissed between his lips and fingers as he leaned forward to recover himself.

"I'm sorry..." he said, apologising between chuckles. "I shouldn't laugh!"

"I know, though." smiled the Watchdog. "I know. It's bad, isn't it? You've been telling me that for years, but I think I'm starting to finally see it."

Bringing a leg up so that his foot rested in his chair, Jim hugged it, resting the side of his head on his knee. He stared softly at his beau, listening intently as the other man spoke. His smile was still present all the while, pleased by the revelation.

"I saw Johnathan..." Ciel continued, shaking his head. "I saw myself staring back at me throughout that fight, too. The whole time, he was egging me on, demanding that I give in and do something heinous in retribution for… doing that to you… I still feel sort of bad that I didn't, though. It's as though part of being 'a man' is engaging in violence for damaging one's property."

"But?" Jim asked.

"But, you aren't my property. And you can handle yourself. I knew that if I did what he wanted, I might not come back. I thought about you and I thought about how upset you would be if that happened… I thought about what kind of face you would make if I died. It was so horrible, that I didn't want to imagine it. I knew that no matter what, I needed to come home with you." Leaning back in his seat again, Ciel sighed. "It's not as dashing or romantic, but I felt a lot of love for you right then. Now I'm sort of amazed by it."

"By what?" questioned the menace. "By how utterly, hopelessly, in love you are with me?" he teased.

"By the fact that I'm able to love like that." Ciel clarified, looking over at the menace with a slight smile. "It's a wonderful thing. It's a little embarrassing, but I can't stop being impressed by it." Shaking his head, he looked away again. "Johnathan can't do that. He can't care about others at all. Everything is about him and his objectives. Even though I'm pretty sure I used to be similar, or at least getting there, I couldn't relate to him at all. I just kept thinking 'is that it? Is that all?' Such a stupid reason to start a war—well, there never really is one, but still… I saw him and I saw myself. He transformed into that creature and I… I couldn't see myself in that at all. I'm too human, it seems… I can love and I can be kind for no other reason apart from the fact that I want to be. It's so natural now… It's as natural as breathing… I'm still not a great person; after all, I murder people. There simply isn't much getting around that. But I think I'm alright. It's just as you've been telling me, Jimmy: I'm a decent person and I'm allowed to feel happiness. I want to be happy and live a happy life with you and the others."

He reached out for his beau's hand, taking it in his own as he rested them both on top of the table. Tenderly stroking the blonde's skin with his thumb, his smile didn't falter, although it did shift a bit. "Ah… Well… Ahem… It's a bit more embarrassing, saying it out loud, I think..."

Meanwhile, his husband was grinning from ear to ear, so much so that his cheeks hurt. The corners of his eyes were creased, threatening to help funnel the water that gathered there down his cheeks. Jim pressed his lips together, focusing on stopping himself from tearing up to the point where he was somewhat distracted from speaking. Standing up, he closed the distance between them and bent down to wrap his arms around the bluenette's shoulder, hiding his face from the other man's view.

"Oh, Ciel! I'm so happy for you!" Jim replied, kissing the Watchdog on the cheek. One peck, two pecks, three…

"Are… Are you crying?" asked the Watchdog, his eye a bit wide in surprise while his face turned a bit pink.

"I love you..." Four pecks, then five. He sniffled and then pulled away, cupping the bluenette's cheeks and rubbing them with his thumbs. "You're one of the kindest people I've ever met, you know that? You're one of the kindest, sweetest, most wonderful people I've ever met. Of course I'm worked up about it! I want you to see yourself the way I do, even if it's just a little!" The Lion's cheeks were tinted a noticeable rose colour as he continued to speak. "I want to be your husband for a loooooooong time, even if I think you're a little bit nuts for picking me."

"I could say the same about you." Ciel chuckled, placing his hands over Jim's. "You could have picked someone a lot safer, you know?"

"Psh, nobody like that could handle me. Besides, it would be boring! I can't give up being dangerous and neither can you. I will say, however, you've completely ruined my taste in men."

"Oh, yeah? How so?" Standing up, the Watchdog almost seemed like he was challenging his beau.

"I like the eyepatch and the eyes." Jim replied. "I also can't stand the idea of dating someone without any scars. Blank men are just… so unattractive?"

"'Blank?' What about tattoos?"

"I guess I could grow to like it, but I prefer you. I like the mafia vibe, too, but all together, it's so specific, that there's basically nobody else I could see."

"So you're saying I'm more attractive than Johnathan?"

"You've got to be joking! He was so ugly! I'm honestly a little offended you'd ask..."

"I'm sorry, darling. Just curious." Ciel allowed his husband to hug him again, wrapping his arms around his shoulders once more while Ciel returned the embrace around Jim's waist. "Are you sure you're alright with the… Y'know… Violence? It's not exactly a welcoming environment..."

"It's home." Jim said. "There's nowhere else I want to be. I love you. I love our home. This is where I learned that I can be happy. It's where I learned that I was allowed to be. And you? You're the one who taught me what real love and affection looks like. It's not all one sided, you know." Ciel's face flushed several shades darker as the menace spoke to him. His eyes fluttered closed as Jim brushed their lips together.

"You're a good man, Ciel." the blonde continued. "Even if you're scared of what comes next and even if you don't know how to feel comfortable being happy, we can keep learning together, just like always."

They were so close that Ciel worried his beau might notice that his heart fluttered a bit just then. There were some things that needed to be said and there were some things that were simply understood between the two of them. Happiness was one of those luxuries that both delighted the two of them and sometimes frightened them. They loved it, craved it, and yearned for moments where it was plentiful, but had been taught that it was a scarce resource. Despite knowing now that this was perhaps false, they still wanted to hoard the feeling as much as possible, while being terrified at times that if they got too greedy, there wouldn't be any left. Something would happen and take it all away, just like it did before.

They were strong, however, and together, they were immensely powerful. They trusted that if the worst case scenario were to occur, the other would be there to help them defend against it and rebuild afterwards. It was a mutual understanding between the two of them, but sometimes, it was simply nice to hear it spoken aloud.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." Ciel said, kissing his husband just as any other man would. It was loving and it was kind, despite both of them knowing full well what the other was capable of. They loved each other because of that and they meant it. "I love you, Jimmy."

"You rat bastard… Keep calling me 'Jimmy' and see what happens..."

"You'll swoon?"

"I'll kill you." Jim replied before pressing his lips against his husband's, making him laugh when they parted again. This time, however, something else caught Ciel's eye. A blush crossed his face as he looked over Jim's shoulder, spotting a sunhat as its wearer tried to sneak away.

"Oh, dear… I'm afraid that we may have traumatised Finny a bit..." he said.

"You started it. Besides, he's your servant, you deal with it."

"But you are also in charge around here and you are the one who kissed me that time, so if anything, you are the one responsible."

"You're the one with the bloodline, 'my lord.'"

"And you're the one I intend to mix it with… 'Sir Jimmy.'"

* * *

**A/N: Hullo. This was an interesting chapter to write, although I'm still not quite happy with it. I had trouble conveying Ciel's feelings, this time around. They're kinda messy, but reconciling the fact that while you're a bad guy, you're not a _bad guy_ is kinda messy! There's this strange cognitive dissonance here where it's like: "Sure, I kill people, but at least I'm not THAT" that is difficult to explain and rationalise. WE know that Ciel is an alright person, but Ciel is just now kinda coming around to the idea, so he's still kinda... "odd" about it.**

**He's also looking out toward the future and it's kinda scary to him. He's a guy who's sort of trapped in the past and present. When he was human, he'd assume he wouldn't live a long life, so there was no point in worrying about it, when he became a demon, he had nothing to really strive for, but now he does. There's a lot of responsibility and care that comes with that. He's gotten a pretty good grasp on that idea over the years, but it's also like: "Man, there's stuff going to happen and some of it's going to be good?"**

**Maybe I'm not even sure what I'm on about... I'll leave it up to you and maybe touch up on it again in a later chapter idk**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	70. Grown Now

Samantha was good at doing work around the house. Certainly, she was once the daughter of a wealthy politician and thus would not be assumed to have the life skills to maintain a household, but she did, as did her brother. They had a housekeeper for a while, of course, but after a while, they moved on to a different job and instead of telling their parents, Samantha and Daniel learned to take care of the house themselves while pocketing the money that was meant to pay for upkeep. Their parents never found out. They were never around enough to notice.

Their old house was kept like a museum to keep up the fiction. It was very different from the flat they lived in now. It wasn't pristine like an advertisement in a home design magazine, nor was it particularly coordinated. Daniel didn't always buy furniture that particularly matched, but it was cheap and he was proud of himself for being responsible with his money. He had sold the beach house that he had inherited and split the money with his sister even though she insisted that he keep it. They sold the cars they didn't need or were too expensive to maintain and bought cheaper ones. Neither of the Westley siblings had really dipped into their liquid assets inheritances from their father, as there wasn't any real need at the moment. Their current house was lived in and felt like a home. They were happy there and no one could tell them to do things otherwise.

So there Samantha was, running the dishwasher after eating the dinner that they had made together while Daniel folded laundry to the best of his ability. Samantha washed it, since she was home all day these days, and kept the house clean while Daniel was at work, but Daniel insisted that he help too, even though he was clearly tired. There were times when Samantha felt immensely guilty when she noticed.

He refused to let her pay for anything. Instead, they lived on the wages Daniel earned from his job, dipping into savings only in minute increments when there was no other option. Lately, the woman had been having trouble insisting that she pay the fees for her schooling, as well, as he insisted that it was alright if he used his funds for her. She didn't like that. The never did. But that was the way he was, it seemed. He was her parent—far more of a parent than their actual parents were. It had been that way since he was an early teenager.

He was funny, goofy, and mischievous. He made rash decisions and could sometimes be insensitive, but he was the older sibling. It was his job to take care of her no matter what. What was he meant to do? Let her fend for herself? Never! There were times in his youth where he felt ashamed of their situation, but he would never show it. Everything at home stayed at home. Always. That's just the way it was. None of the other children at Warwick could take care of the house. None of them had to take care of their sibling like a parent would. They had nannies and housekeepers, so there was no need. But Daniel was too proud back then. Far too proud. He did everything that he was supposed to on the outside, but once he was home and no longer being watched? He was free to do as he pleased.

Samantha used to like hearing him fiddle with instruments in his room from down the hall. He didn't really do that these days. The flat was too small. He'd keep her and the neighbours awake. Worse, he was far too tired to bother. His sister felt that he should start up again once she left for college. Maybe he could go to school, too, and pursue music, but sometimes, she really doubted that he would. He was still learning how to live outside of the Westley family image.

She realised when she went to school that practically everyone's family at Warwick kept up appearances just like theirs did. She and Daniel got dressed up in outfits a stylist chose for them—uncomfortable dresses and stuffy, child-sized, suits that choked and embarrassed them, and smiled wide for cameras with their mother and father for the sake of maintaining the "wholesome family image" that the politician needed. What a farce. Their mother was an alcoholic and their father was a floozy with men, despite opposing the practise in public. Neither of them were ever home. This was home. Truth be told, she was extremely nervous about leaving and she knew that Daniel was too.

He acted tough about it, but he was fussy. At least once a day, he had a question about the things she needed to take with her when she moved into the dorms, but it was usually more times than that. He asked her when move in day was several times despite having it prominently marked on the calendar. He knew he was going to cry when she left, but he was going to do his very best to save it until he returned home without her. While Daniel had spent time apart from her on multiple occasions, the permanency of it frightened him and so did the mere fact that she would have to take care of herself without him. For all intents and purposes, he was her parent and she was his child, even when he was a child, himself.

Samantha was sitting on the couch watching television when he walked back into the room. She was curled up in the corner, leaning against the armrest with a drowsy look on her face, like she was struggling to keep her eyes open long enough to watch her show.

"You stayed up working, didn't you?" the man asked while he sat down. "School starts next week. You should fix your sleep schedule."

"Mm-hm..." the woman answered with a weak nod. "I know, but still… I get paid for publishing."

"Yeah… Getting paid is good..." Daniel nodded, resting his arms on the back of the couch as he settled. "But you should probably pull back. Studying comes first."

"Psh, like you can talk..."

"I graduated, didn't I?"

"You're still a hypocrite."

"When you're the older one, you get to be hypocritical." the man jested, earning himself a rude gesture from his sibling. He laughed as his attention was directed toward the screen.

Despite his insistence, he soon began to nod off as well, only waking up when his sister turned off the TV and went to her room. She placed a blanket over him before he opened his eyes, allowing him to settle there for as long as he liked while she got ready for bed. Once she was out of sight, though, he moved his arms out from under the covers and stretched, grunting as he lazily moved about. Sniffing, he reached over and picked up his phone from the side table, checking the time and to see if he had any messages. Just a simple good night text from Theodore and that was all their was, really. As much as he didn't really want to, he figured that he ought to start heading off to bed himself.

With a grunt, he forced himself up from his seat and readjusted the cushions before starting to walk away. He looked down, trying not to trip over that damn corner of the rug that always stayed folded no matter how many times he flattened it back out, and he nearly made it to the hall when he heard the vibrating of his phone as it loudly rattled against the table. He waited for a moment, making sure it wasn't just a text, but when he heard it again, he turned around and walked back over to it, picking up the device and looking at the screen.

It was a number that he didn't recognise and that wasn't in his contacts. Now, ordinarily, the logical thing to do would be to simply ignore it, but there were a few reasons he decided to answer it anyway. The first was that it could be Samantha's new school for whatever reason, but then there was the fact that he could have forgotten to take down a posting for one of his inherited assets he was trying to unload. Or it could be Jim, having destroyed another phone for whatever reason.

Swiping the screen, he accepted the call and placed the device up to his ear, unsure as to what he'd find. "Hello? This is Daniel."

"Danny!" a loud voice called from the other end, startling him a bit. Quickly, he pulled the phone away from his head and looked at it, staring at the number again. He thought he recognised the voice, but wasn't sure from just that.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"'Who is this?' What do you mean, 'who is this?' Don't tell me you've forgotten already. Can't you remember your own mother's voice?"

That was all it took for Daniel's lazy mood to shift to an extreme. His brows furrowed and his face scrunched into a snarl as a wave of pure, unrefined and unbridled anger washed over him. It was like the woman had taken a bucket of it and poured it over his head. All it took was the grating sound of her voice and the utterance of the "m-word" to make him want to throw his phone across the room and never buy a replacement. Still, he needed to remain calm. He couldn't let her get the satisfaction of getting under his skin, so he took a deep breath before getting straight to the point.

"How did you get this number?" he asked with the sole intention of dealing with the leak and possibly changing it again.

"Good lord, Daniel, there's no need to take that tone with me. I'm just trying to reconnect with my children. There's no need to get nasty." Barbara replied.

"How did you get this number?" the man asked again, not budging.

"What does it matter? Is it wrong for me to want to talk to my son? I haven't heard from you in so long! You left your old place and took Samantha with you! I miss my son and daughter. Now, I understand that we parted on less than pleasant terms, but I'm completely willing to forgive you."

"I don't forgive you." Daniel said. "And I don't have to. I don't want anything to do with you or Nathan, and you're not seeing Sam, either, so you can just forget that."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that she would react badly? I was only trying to help her. It's best for her to find a husband to take care of her while she's still got her looks! She didn't have to go making up lies to get out of it. I would have understood."

"They aren't lies and don't bother trying to pull some shit like that again. She's already seeing someone."

"Really? Who? Have I heard of him? Or his parents?"

"Like I'd tell you. I'm not giving you any ammunition to stalk her with. Lose my number and piss off." He was about to pull the phone away from his ear to hang up, when he heard the woman raise her voice.

"Daniel Lennon Westley, how could you treat your mother like this?! I would never do something like that! How can you accuse me of something like that? After everything I've done for you, all you do is disrespect me and take my daughter away from me! You won't even listen to what I have to say. All you do is swear and hurt me and it absolutely breaks my heart..." his mother replied, her voice sounding sad as she pretended to get choked up. Daniel rolled his eyes as he stood there, listening to her crocodile tears as he spoke. "You were always such a sweet little boy… how could you grow up to be so awful?"

"Kids are a lot easier to control than adults, huh? Sucks for you, I guess. I don't really see you as a mum at all, if I'm honest. You were never around unless you needed us to pose for pictures to suit you or Mathew. You can cry all you want, Barbara, but honestly, I don't care."

"How could you! I was home all the time, slaving away to keep my children taken care of while your father was working! Is this why Samantha won't call me? Because you keep filling her head with lies? You're so selfish! You always have been! I suppose you're just going to let your mother go homeless, then, aren't you? You haven't even asked me why I called!"

"That's because I figured you were going to pull that card sooner or later." The man made no effort to hide the annoyance in his tone. "Let me guess… You burned through your inheritance haven't you? And I bet Nathan burned through his, too, and that's why you're not calling him?"

"What was I supposed to do? It wasn't nearly enough to live on! I had to let go of the flat and sell my clothes just to get by!"

"Oh, no… Not the Channel, Barbara..." snarkily answered Daniel. "How ever will you go on?"

"I need a place to stay." Barbara replied, choosing to ignore the sarcastic tone her son took on. "You will let me stay with you. Nathan, too. The poor boy has nothing left! We're destitute, Daniel! Or do you even care? I've had to rent a flat that's far too small to live in. There isn't even a dining room!"

"How terrible… You won't like my place any better, I'm afraid. It doesn't have a dining room either, and you can't even get to it without special clearance. I guess you're screwed."

"How can you not have a dining room?! I knew it! You spent your money on stupid stuff, didn't you?! You even sold the beach house and cars to get more!"

"No, I sold them because they're just sitting around, doing nothing and costing me mon—hold on..." Daniel trailed off, narrowing his eyes. "How did you know about that? That's how you got my number, isn't it?"

"How else was I supposed to get it? You wouldn't give it to me! And if you weren't using the beach house, you could have at least let me stay there!"

"And keep paying for it? Yeah, I don't think so. Why don't you get a job, Barbara? Though I doubt 'alcoholic ex-sugar baby' will look good on a resume. I take it you've finally figured out you're too old for old rich guys to pay attention to anymore, huh?"

"Why are you like this?" the woman asked. "What have I done to deserve this? I was lonely without your father! Aren't I allowed to move on?"

"You went public with the first guy a week after he died!"

"No, I didn't." Barbara said. "Stop telling lies to make yourself feel right, Daniel. You always do this… I don't know why you're always so over dramatic and ungrateful! We gave you everything!"

"You didn't give me parents!" Daniel blurted out, finding his annoyance changing into anger. He felt his heart racing as his mind was doused in adrenaline. His free hand was clenched into a tight fist at his side, but he had no one and nothing to use it on. "For fuck's sake, Barbara! You always fucking do this! You've always done it! Grow the fuck up and stop trying to pretend everything was perfect! You're a liar! You've always been a liar and you've always used us when it suited you! Oh, you were the perfect mum whenever the cameras were on us, but after that? After that, you and Matthew fucked off to God know's where—probably to fuck other men—while we were left at home to fend for ourselves! All smiles when it suited you, but when it was time to actually give a shit about your kids? Nothing. Broken promises and neglect, that's all we got. Nathan would just piss off somewhere else and get stoned or whatever, but me and Sam? I'm the one who raised her! Me! Not you! I did! I was a kid, going to school and trying to do normal kid stuff—because hey! I was an actual child when this was going on—and being more of a parent to her than you ever would be. I cooked, I cleaned, I made sure she had everything for school, all the while you were off blowing somebody else's dad. Fuck off! Don't ever call me again and if you ever try to get in contact with Sam, I'm calling the fucking police! You can fucking starve in the streets for all I care! Thanks for fuck all, Barbara! Piss off and get fucked!"

He heard the sound of her beginning to shout back at him as he ripped the phone from his ear before abruptly cutting her off when he hung up. Then, there was nothing but silence as he was left alone, standing in his living room. His heart was pounding in his chest. A thin layer of sweat had gathered at his brow as he felt like he had just got done out-running a tiger. Daniel was absolutely furious, but at the same time, part of him felt good. He knew he should have hung up sooner and he felt a bit petty for blowing up like that, but at the same time, it felt good. He felt in control of things and as the phone vibrated again with the same caller ID, he felt confident in selecting the "ignore call" button. Barbara Westley could not control him anymore. She was going to have to learn that the hard way, it seemed.

Taking a deep breath, the man walked over to the kitchen table and sat down, trying to relax for a moment so that he could get back into the right headspace for going back to bed. Sitting there, with his phone still in one hand and his chin resting in the palm of the other, he stared into space, somewhat reeling from the experience. Memories that he hadn't thought about in quite a while replayed in his mind, but instead of feeling particularly hurt, he simply scoffed at them.

There were times when his mother was kind to him, certainly, and he enjoyed them at first. He was always so, incredibly, happy when she'd pay attention to him, helping him put on his little suit and tie that matched his father's and telling him what a handsome young man he was. She would tell him that he was going to grow up into a bright, successful, man just like Matthew Westley. His father would pat him on the shoulder as he walked by, giving him silent approval. Once, there was a time where that mattered to him. It felt like the world to him.

The family would pose for photos, with Samantha in that frock she hated and Nathan dressed like a middle-sized Matthew. They were primped, polished, and all smiles for the camera. They were perfect and then the camera shuttered for the last time that day. They went home. From there, it was anticlimactic, really. It became harder and harder to smile for those pictures over the years as he entered secondary school and started to wise up. It was all a scam. For a few hours, they were "perfect," but no one would ever see how empty that house really was. They wouldn't see Daniel being made to give up choir or be nagged to not hang out with Kristopherson anymore. What an amazing lie his parents told. At times, he still found himself believing it, grinning at the pat on the shoulder and the "that's my boy" his father gave him when he started dating Anastasia Miles.

"Ah, that sucks." he thought. He forgot to inform Barbara about his new boyfriend and about how happy he was. She'd call again, eventually. In fact, she did, but Daniel wasn't ready to deal with her again just yet and knew she was just keen on having the last word, so he hung up on her once more. "Crazy bitch."

She would have been furious and he kind of liked that. He wondered if she'd go ballistic or just ignore it like she did with Samantha. How dare they be happy in ways she didn't approve of? Sucks to be her. Daniel didn't care if she was happy about it. He was content with her growing old with nobody beside her at all. What right did she have to hear about how they were doing? About their relationships, or whatever milestones they were reaching?

He had gotten a job that he worked earnestly on each day while making his own money. He had gotten a boyfriend and had a new kid to take care of, he supposed, although he wasn't sure if he felt ready for it. In some ways, it felt like he was just replacing Samantha with another little girl. He didn't know if he was ready to officially step in to the "dad" role just yet, but he was terrified of living on his own while not having to take care of somebody anymore. Ah, fuck… He made himself sad…

Samantha had gotten a girlfriend who was kind of a big deal. Geraldine was the daughter of a Marquis who was also a member of the shadow government that ran the country. It was shady business, sure, but they sort of had their eye on having Samantha join the family for quite a while, as far as Daniel understood it. After she finished her degree, she might get another. She might get married, too, maybe have kids of her own. Daniel scrunched his face and shook his head at the thought. He wasn't ready to be a grandfather just yet!

In truth, he simply didn't feel ready for Samantha to grow up. She had been an integral part of his life for so long that he couldn't really imagine a time where he wouldn't be looking after her. He knew it was coming sooner rather than later—in a few days, to be precise—but he still didn't feel ready for it. She was ready, but he wasn't. Daniel knew he'd have to let go so that he could live his own life, but it felt like he would have to start looking for himself all over again.

There was no way that he could talk to Samantha about this, however. Not yet, at least. If he did, it might keep her from leaving. There was no way that he could do that to her. Yet, there was one person he knew that might just understand him a bit. Looking down at his blank phone, he unlocked the screen and searched through his contacts. Finding the guy he was looking for, he began to type.

"Hey, Jim you free sometime soon?" he asked. "I wanna talk about some stuff if that's alright."

* * *

**A/N: Fuck Barbara.**

**I feel like this has come out of nowhere, but since when does anything in this series not just... come up? Daniel does not need this negativity.**

**But I also think that everyone is sort of moving on to this next stage of their lives where they're forming adult relationships and having adult responsibilities, while Daniel... has always had some of those responsibilities. He didn't always do right by them, but it's kind of hard to expect him to have. He's in his early twenties and sending off a person he raised to college. It's kinda like he's empty nesting prematurely. After this, then what? He's just gotten to a point where he feels really solid, only for this to shake him back up. But he's not going to let it topple him over. He's just gotta decide where he's gonna go from here. **

**And there's a lot of paths open to him! He's just gotta figure out which one is the one he's gonna pick. He's got time.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	71. My Worstest Enemy

The heads of the Phantomhive household were busy as always, this time expanding their influence father and farther with each passing day. This was the sort of thing that Ciel was accustomed to, as he continuously delved into more business ventures to further brainwash "the youths" into purchasing his products on an international scale. He sat behind his desk, answering e-mails on progress with a sinister look on his face. At any moment, Jim was expecting to hear maniacal laughter or a nefarious chuckle coming from that direction, as did happen on occasion. Ciel was courteous, however, and always proudly showed his spouse what he found so amusing. The menace found it all rather cute—both the actions of an evil overlord and the expectant look on Ciel's face when he wanted Jim to praise him for his success. At times, Jim wondered what exactly he found so appealing about a man who was so evil as to use brainwashing the way Ciel did, but at least he believed in equal opportunity brainwashing. Lately, the Earl was immensely pleased by the success of his efforts in the mobile phone game field. As he said, "Anyone can sell videogames to teenage boys, but I can even sell them to middle aged women." The Funtom Empire still reigned supreme.

But, while Ciel was busily separating people from their money, Jim was busy with giving orders to his own troops just a feet away. Supernatural Relations agents from HELLSING had crossed the channel into France to help aid with structuring similar policies and relations on foreign soil. Realistically, it seemed almost unreasonable to spend time and resources on a foreign project like this one, but Sir Integra was adamant, as she was keen on keeping Iscariot as far away from her and England as possible. To do that, they needed to create a better system than there's, where supernaturals were allies that would help when possible, rather than running away.

The updates from his underling, Roger Winrey, were somewhat mixed, but promising. It was easier to put things in place while ORSAP was rebuilding, so in a way, Johnathan had inadvertently helped them. At the same time, however, things were still slow. There was no rapport to speak of between ORSAP and the French supernaturals, and that was going to be a tough thing to fix. That wasn't his job, however. His job was to make suggestions and hope ORSAP liked them enough to take them.

Honestly, it was exhausting. Tedious. Frustrating. As much as Jim liked his job—truly, he did—it was a major pain at times, as building things up was infinitely more difficult than tearing them down. That said, he wasn't completely starved for good news. Annie had agreed to take more online classes on teaching so that she may one day assist ORSAP as a teacher when they had their own supernatural territory built. Hugo was still her best student, even if his penmanship was a bit difficult for Jim's personal translator to read. He hoped to be able to help the people living in the catacombs live together peacefully on the surface one day and insisted that he needed to know far more than he did now in order to do it. Jim could tell he was working hard on it in earnest, as well. Jim had gotten news that Wink's new apprentice had landed and would start his training soon. He hoped that Damien would do well and expected to see him around for a while. Then, there was Brittany. Poor thing. Jim really didn't know if the decisions he made on that front were the best, but he hoped it was at least better than where she was.

He had received a message filling him in on her current situation, closing her casefile as she reintegrated herself into English society as a supernatural being. It was going to be immensely difficult—Jim had no doubt about that—because all of them knew that there would always be people in the supernatural community who would not forgive her for betraying Gehenna the way she did. There would be people who would, but if she wished to integrate into supernatural society, she should probably start with Pyestock. In the meantime, she had returned to her parents' home. Luckily, they were glad to see her. Jim was terrified that they might not be, but they accepted her. She was not the was she was when they parted, both physically and mentally, but they were just glad to have their daughter back, claws and all. Of course, the appropriate informational texts were supplied to them in an effort to somewhat equip them for their new life together. Having a new werewolf in the family was often hard, but not at all something that ought to tear them apart.

What a nice ending. Jim was glad. As much as he wished things would move faster, he was glad things tended to be looking up on the whole. It somewhat felt like his time in France was unreal, now, as he sat comfortably behind the safety of his desk. He looked over at his husband again, watching as the man who had vowed with him to create a happy homelife together for years to come worked in a strikingly mundane fashion. Jim couldn't help but agree with Ciel. While this quiet life was idyllic and wonderful, he didn't think that he would be able to cope if things were so ordinary forever. While he was extremely thankful for Ciel's work and found it fun, the menace couldn't help but wonder how the bluenette could stand it. It felt like the only reason that Jim was able to focus so long on his own duties was due to the secretive nature of them. Anything else felt inauthentic.

"I'm gonna go get something to drink." the blonde finally announced, however, standing from his chair and stretching his arms up in the air. With a grunt, he let them fall to his sides as he faced the other Phantomhive. "Want anything?"

"A cup of tea would be nice." the Watchdog answered.

"Hm… How strange… You always seem to want tea when you're not the one making it…"

"You've tasted my tea. It's just mildly leafy water."

"You make it perfectly well, you liar." Jim laughed before making his way around the desk and out the door to the office.

It was a long way to the kitchen, which was typically enough to dissuade him from making the journey, but he was tired of looking at his computer screen and wanted to simply do something else for a moment. It would take him a few minutes to make the trip to and from the kitchen, but a few more to make Ciel's tea before he came back. Even after all these years, the menace was still a master of procrastination.

It is immensely important to emphasise that Jim does not hate or even dislike his job. Far from it. Even the parts that involved a seemingly endless sea of paperwork were interesting puzzles for him to solve, and if they weren't, they were just busywork for him to complete as quickly as possible in order for him to get on to the good bit. That said, while he has made very obvious and major changes over the years in regards to his work ethic and ability to focus, some old habits died hard, so it was important for him to take a break so that he could refocus once he felt some difficulty in reeling his drifting attention back into port. The more he became the important, trustworthy, and respected baronet who held the lives of many supernaturals and humans alike in his hands, the more his lowly delinquent side wanted to surface. Jim felt like bunking off or playing some obnoxious prank on somebody, but his impulse control was far greater than it once was, leading him to accept that neither of those options were a particularly good idea.

But, as he traversed the halls, he sensed that he was being followed. A familiar presence was attempting to tail him, following him a little ways and then ducking behind some furniture or into a room the moment Jim turned around to catch him. Amateur. He should know better than to try and sneak up on Jim without a plan. After all, Luka knew that he could sense him without moving in the slightest. Then, with every bit of warning, the younger of the two launched his attack.

"Hyaaaaargh!" Luka cried out as he ran at his brother and lunged. His feet left the ground and his arms outstretched, unsure, really, as to how exactly he was going to strike. Perhaps he didn't need to know. Perhaps he knew that. Without a moment of hesitation, Jim stepped to the side and turned around in one fluid motion, catching the lad around the middle in mid air. The menace then lifted Luka over his shoulder, moving the boy backwards so that his back was on Jim's shoulder and his feet wiggled behind him. Turning his head, the menace smiled as he saw the boy's face, all twisted with laughter.

"You got me again!" Luka declared, grunting when the blonde let go of him, allowing him to drop to his feet. Turning around to face him, Jim placed his hands on his hips and bent forward, bringing his face down to Luka's level.

"Well, of course, silly!" Jim laughed, poking his brother's forehead. "Pro tip: don't yell when you're trying to sneak up behind someone."

"Well, you should teach me how to do it better." answered the brunet, walking alongside the baronet down the hallway.

"Didn't you learn while hunting with Sebastian?"

"Only from far away with a gun. You should teach me how to do stealth kills up close."

"'Stealth kills,' huh? Sounds like a videogame."

"What do you call it, then?"

"'Killing.'" answered the lion. "I think what you're really wanting to know is CQC."

"Close Quarters Combat?"

"Exactly."

Luka beamed as they continued their trip. He didn't really know where they were going, but that didn't matter. Today was the day for him. "Cool… Cool..." he nodded, trying to stifle his grin and play things "cool." "You should teach me that sometime, then."

"I would, but I'm kind of busy..." his brother replied, much to his displeasure. "Things got kinda messy during our mission in France, and I still need to do the job I needed to do in the first place. I might need to go back soon. Sorry. Sebastian's probably a better teacher, anyway. He's the one who taught me most of the stuff I know."

"Sebastian's busy, too..." the younger frowned. "And I bet Ciel is, too, isn't he?"

"'Fraid so… We'll get to it, eventually. Ciel and I have actually been talking about the future of the estate since we got back."

"Hm..." Unfortunately, Luka was visibly unconvinced by that. Tilting his chin up and putting his hands behind his back, he then decided to sneakily switch gears to one of his other wants. "Then… You could always send me to bootcamp to learn like you did Revy, then..."

"Are you even old enough for that?"

"I'm fourteen!"

"What?" Quickly turning his head, Jim gave his younger sibling a once over before deciding that Luka was in fact correct, much to his embarrassment. "Oh… That's right… Sorry. We'll, uh… We'll look into it for next time..."

"I could still make the fall course." Luka suggested. "It hasn't started yet. I could still get in by next week!"

"I don't know if they can process your paperwork that fast..."

"So? Can't you just get me in?"

"Yeah, but-" Jim paused, reassessing the situation before finally concluding: "It's not that simple. You can't just force your way into everything."

"Why not? You and Ciel do it all the time." Luka furrowed his brow.

"Only when it's necessary." Noticing the displeased look on his brother's face, Jim let out a sigh. "Look, we'll… We'll get you in as soon as we can, alright? It might not be this time, but next time, sound good?"

It didn't really, but Luka didn't want to push it any further than he already had. Even though he didn't really believe his brother. "Can I get my ears pierced, then?"

"Soon. We're still-"

"Busy, I know. I know! You're always… busy."

"Listen, I know that it doesn't seem like it, but we're really doing the best we can, alright?" offered the Lion, trying to make the other demon see his point of view. "We have our missions, Ciel's business, Travis' wedding… Ciel's also been looking at contractors to give him an estimate on how much it's gonna cost to fix up that house for Revy, and I've gotta go see Dan about his whole family drama. We're getting around to it. Either way, Sebastian is probably going to have to do it because we can't having your demon's blood getting on some poor, unsuspecting, human. It's on our 'to do' list, okay? It's up there. We can't do everything right now, but we'll get to it."

"Uuuuugh… Sebastian again..." groaned the lad, rolling his eyes in typical teenage fashion. "You always pawn me off on him, then it's his fault when it doesn't get done..."

"No, I don't." Jim frowned. "When did I do that?"

"Sebastian taught me how to shoot, Sebastian taught me how to read and write and pretty much everything else, then you want Sebastian to teach me how to fight and you want Sebastian to pierce my ears… I still don't know anything about how to be a part of the family and I'm never going to learn it if you just leave it to Sebastian!"

"It's sort of his job to do that stuff, isn't it? He's the Phantomhive butler. You know: 'If I couldn't do something like this, what kind of butler would I be?'" Jim asked, doing a rather impressive imitation of the butler in question. Although he tried to use humour to diffuse the tension that was building around them, he had to concede that it wasn't working. Slouching his shoulders, he sighed. "I'm sorry, alright? You are a part of the family, Luka. You always have been. We love you, you know that, right?"

"But I'm not in the family!" the boy protested. "Everybody else gets to be a part of the family business, while I'm stuck studying for some normie job I don't want and I'm never gonna have! Everybody else got to learn this stuff way before they were my age. If I don't learn anything soon, I'll be way too old to do anything!"

"You're a demon. You'll never be 'too old.'" Jim corrected, only to wince as that clearly wasn't the thing to say.

"You know what I mean!" Luka said, stepping into the man's path. "I can do the job and you know I can! You just don't want want to teach me or let me do it!"

"That's not true!"

"Then why didn't you teach me to shoot on any of your days off? Or teach me to fight? You're not working all the time. I can tell. I'm not stupid, Jim. You won't even let me practise shooting in a useful way! It's just hunting! Anybody can hunt animals, but almost nobody can be an assassin, and you don't want me to. Why?!"

"It's not that simple!" the menace snapped back. "You can't be so gung ho about it! It's not like in the movies, Luka! You have absolutely no idea what you'd be getting into and it's my job to protect you!"

"You didn't need anybody to protect you!" Luka's brow was furrowed and his voice was raised when he said that. His eyes were full of anger that melted away much quicker than he thought it should have. It was only moments after those words left his mouth that he wished he could put them back in and swallow them.

Jim took a step back from him, reeling as if he had been punched. The look on his face scared Luka. It was slower than a flash, but he saw it. He saw it clear as day and it shook the boy to his core. Luka couldn't ever—ever-remember a time when he had seen his brother make a face like that. He couldn't ever remember him looking so hurt before. And it was his fault. Luka knew that he wanted to learn how to fight. He wanted it more than anything. Yet he realised in that moment that he was unprepared to see someone hurt by his own actions. Luka had wounded his brother. His brother, who was so strong, so clever, and practically invincible, was wounded by his words. It was like he had been slashed by a sword or stabbed with a knife and his blood was on Luka's hands. It made him feel powerful that he was able to inflict damage upon someone so mighty and big, but it also made him feel awful. The guilt of having inflicted such a wound on his brother gnawed at his insides as a profound sense of horror as to what he had done overtook him.

"Hey..." he started, trying to figure out a way to make the man stop making that face at him. "Jim, I'm… I'm sorry, I-"

The menace held up a hand. He didn't want to hear his apology. Closing his eyes, the blonde took a deep breath through his nose and held it before letting it out again. As he did so, he tried to deflate the aggressive posture he had instinctively taken to defend himself, although a bit of the sharpness in his shoulders remained.

"We're not going to talk about this right now." he said. There was no room for negotiation in that. Those words were now law and that was that. "I'm going to go get some tea, I'm going to work a bit more, and then I'm going to go see Dan. I will see you at dinner time."

The lad's mouth opened and closed, trying to think of something else to say as he watched his brother leave him. He wanted to think of something good to say that would fix things, but nothing came to mind. All he could think about was the fact that Jim was upset with him. Worse, he could be angry at him. Watching Jim's back disappear down the long hallway, Luka brought his hands up to the level of his stomach and clutched at his shirt before letting go and fiddling with his fingers. He was still upset at the situation, himself, as well as upset that he was now the bad guy in this situation, but also, Luka was startled by what had just happened. He didn't really understand it. He didn't know why those words hurt the man so badly, but knew that they did. As to what he was going to do next? He didn't know. He just stood there for a while, too afraid to go after the blonde, but also feeling as though running away and hiding was the wrong choice.

In reality, Jim just wanted some distance from him. They both had feelings on the matter, but Jim was the older one, so he knew that he couldn't just take them out on Luka. It would be cruel if he did. His pace quickened as he eagerly separated himself from Luka for a moment in the event that he did cause a scene. It was frustrating. It was so frustrating that when he finally got there, he just stood there in the silence and stewed on it.

Despite their special bond, they never really talked about the past with each other. If they did, it was only the good parts. Bragging rights on particularly cunning or skilled heists were fair game, but the deep shit? It was off limits. The rule was never spoken between them, but it didn't really have to be. They just understood. Sadly, that meant that they didn't quite understand each other. They were both so young when they faced the world alone together and a lot had changed since then. They were still getting to know the new versions of themselves a little more each day, finding out that while some things weren't quite the same, others hadn't changed a bit. Yet because of their ages and how long ago it was, their perspective was a bit skewed. The two brothers were learning about that a bit more and more each day as well. The visions they had of one another were true, but also not true. If they were, though, they may not be true anymore. Luka wasn't the perfect little boy who loyally followed Jim around anymore and Jim? Jim was never really the perfect big brother. He tried; he really did, but there comes a time in every child's life where the veil is lifted or shifts a bit and one discovers that the ones who raised you were never really invincible at all.

The cracks started a long time ago. Well, not as long as a hundred years or more, but certainly within the past decade as they reunited in this new time. Age does that to people. They change and they grow, but then so do the people around them. Children grow up and their eyes become more keen. They start to notice the imperfections in the world around them. Luka may have been young and naive, but even when he was younger, he noticed a few of his brother's flaws. He was taught never to disturb Jim from a nap if he seemed to be having a nightmare. At the time, he accepted it. That's just was just something you were not supposed to do and that was that, but as he grew older, he started to ask "why?"

"He has a mental illness." he was told. "It's called PTSD."

But what was that? Luka knew how to use google, but that didn't seem to help, either. All it brought up were articles about soldiers and the trauma they experienced at war. Other articles didn't specify, but listed a bunch of symptoms and then said that it's caused by trauma. What kind? It didn't say. Luka couldn't remember seeing his brother having any of those problems, either, so he didn't think that any of it was true. Jim didn't fight in a war and when he did fight, he always came back victorious. Sure, he got hurt pretty bad from time to time, but no matter how bad it was, he always bounced right back and went to work a little while later. He was too strong and too powerful. He was one of the greatest fighters who ever lived, so why would he be bothered? It was just another day at the office.

But Luka still followed the rule. Don't wake up Jim from a nightmare or else he might hit you hard enough to kill a human by mistake. He still didn't understand why he might do that or if it was even true that he would, but he was still not brave enough to try it. His brother was strong. He didn't want to get punched by him.

Jim used to be the person who always took care of him. When he was really small and Jim was small, too, he always looked after Luka and Luka trusted him to always have his best interests at heart. He'd chase away the kids who would try and beat Luka up and play tricks on the townspeople who threw stones at them. Jim would do anything for him. He'd lie and he'd cheat and he'd steal just to get Luka something to eat. Sometimes, if there wasn't enough for the both of them, he'd give Luka his share. "I'm not that hungry." he'd insist, even after Luka heard his stomach growling. Then he'd just smile and tell Luka to go ahead and not worry about him. He would be fine. Luka thought he was really tough back then, but now he figured that Jim was actually lying. Of course he was lying. He'd lie and cheat and steal to get Luka fed.

He didn't do that sort of thing these days, though. The house was full of plenty to the point where they'd both get scolded for hiding food and forgetting about it. "It's wasteful," Sebastian would say, "And it draws insects." Luka knew that he would get in trouble, but according to Ciel, Jim had the same habit. Luka had no idea. Jim never said anything. "C'mon, Luka! Just eat!" he'd say with a smile. The house was full of plenty, so there was no need for Jim to lie. The house was attacked from time to time and Jim always did a good job of protecting Luka still, but he was always busy, now. He never seemed to have enough time to help his younger brother with anything and instead left it up to Sebastian. Although the boy knew it was a bit selfish, it did hurt a bit.

Sebastian was the one who was directly responsible for raising him, now. That was fine. It was. Really. Sebastian knew practically everything, so he always had something new to teach Luka. Jim took more of a backseat, these days. He still had final say in everything, though. If Luka wanted to go somewhere or do something, he would have to ask Jim. Then, Jim would say "no." Well, at least it seemed that way, lately.

Luka really didn't understand why he was so against certain things. He let Revy pierce his ears almost right away. Hell, he even let him pierce his eyebrow! So what was another measly pair of pierced ears to the menace? His husband even had them! Why was it a big deal when it was Luka? Was he worried that Luka would become a delinquent or something? Really? As bad as Jim himself was when he was Luka's age? It didn't seem fair at all.

Then there was boot camp. Luka sat to himself and sulked in his room as he sulked about that, wondering why his brother wouldn't let him go. It wasn't the same as signing up for HELLSING. Not at all. They had done away with signing up supernaturals at young ages, anyway. Luka could only enlist when he turned seventeen. And it wasn't as though Jim didn't do the job every day. Maybe that was why he didn't like it, but it still seemed unfair. How was Luka supposed to be effective if he didn't work on his skills now? How would he even know that this is ultimately what he wanted if he wasn't allowed to try. If he hated it, it would save him and everyone else a lot of time and effort training. Maybe Jim was worried that Luka might get that PTSD? Maybe he was just trying to scare him?

Maybe he was just being a prick.

The boy was mad. He laid on his bed with crossed arms and a furrowed brow as his emotions shifted. A strange, unnecessary bout of aggression overtook him, bubbling up from his chest as he muttered to himself. "Stupid Jim..." he grumbled. "Why should I have to listen to him? He's not my dad or anything… I don't fuckin' have one..." The time for concern, fear, and guilt were over as now he was angry at the situation. It seemed unreasonable to him that he should have to feel bad even though he knew he was clearly in the right. Jim was just being dumb. He sucked. He had become a boring adult who felt the need to tell Luka what to do all the time. What did he know? He was only two years older than Luka before they died. If anything, Luka's ability to do things like wiping out a village at age eight should be a bonus. He already had a point on his resume, so to speak. As a soldier, that should be a good thing. It was just one more reason why Jim was wrong. After everything they've been through together and after all Luka had done for him, this was how Jim was going to treat him? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all!

Although he wasn't directly told to stay in his room, that's where Luka stayed for the time being. Mostly, it was to stay out of Jim's way. There was no way that Luka was going to go see him. All that would happen is that he'd just get yelled at again. Or scolded. So, in his room, he stayed. Maybe he wouldn't even go down for dinner. Then Jim would feel sorry. Maybe then he'd finally pay attention to him. Serves him right.

A jolt shot through the boy's body as he heard a rumbling outside. A car? What time was it? Twisting his head to the side, the lad rolled over until he could reach his alarm clock on his side table. Hours had passed. Jim said he was going to see Daniel, right?

Forcing himself up, Luka swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, slowly making his way toward the window. He crouched down so that he couldn't be seen so well from outside, placing his hands on the windowsill while he peeked over it. A black Mercedes Benz rolled out of the garage and onto the concrete driveway, moving alongside the mansion before turning onto the path out. Jim was leaving, alright. Luka could finally come out!

"Yessss!" he hissed, pumping his fist in the air for a second before standing up. Hurriedly, he started making his way toward the door, but as he put his hand on the handle, he got a chill down his spine. Looking up, he had a feeling that someone was going to be on the other side of it. Someone he didn't want to talk to. He debated on heading back to bed for a moment, only for his train of thought to be interrupted by three knocks.

"Luka?" a voice called from the other side of the door. "Can you hear me?" Sebastian knew damn well the boy could hear him. He knew he was standing on just the other side. He couldn't sense the Macken rolling his eyes, however. Begrudgingly, the lad had no choice by to slowly turn the knob.

"Yeah?" Luka asked with a sigh. "What is it? Don't tell me that Jim told you to talk to me..."

"What? Oh, no, no… Not at all. Sir Phantomhive did not ask a thing of me." the butler replied politely with his usual smile. It was an irritating smile, as it always indicated that he knew far more about a situation than the person he was talking to. "_Lord_ Phantomhive, however, strongly hinted that he wished that I would check up on you."

"Uuuuuuuugh!" the boy groaned, turning around and marching right back into the room. "Of course he did! Jim always tells him everything..."

"I believe that is typical of married couples, unless I'm mistaken." Sebastian stated while the younger demon sat on the edge of the bed with a slouch. Pausing a moment, the man took a step into the room and joined him, sitting up perfectly straight as he sat beside the boy with his hands neatly placed in his lap. "You seem upset." he said. "Is it comfort you require?"

"No… I'm good." the boy grumbled.

"Oh, thank goodness… I'm terrible at that sort of thing."

"I know," the boy said, pausing for a moment before patting the man on the arm. "Good try, though."

"Are you still upset?" Sebastian asked. "I could make you a snack, if that would help."

"Not now… Maybe later… I don't really feel like eating anything or talking about it, okay?"

"I see… Well, if you insist," the man said, standing up once more. "I'll be taking my leave, then. Do shout if you need anything." Before he walked out of the room, the butler turned and reached out with his hand, attempting to pat Luka on the head reassuringly. The only thing was, he pushed down a bit too hard, rendering the entire experience a bit awkward before finally setting off with a smile. Opening the door and gliding through it, the butler began to shut it with him on the other side, nearly doing so before opening it back up again and giving the lad a thumbs up. With that, the butler was gone, satisfied that he had done the best he could with his task. All the while, Luka looked on. The boy's confusion was indeed present, but minimal, as he knew the butler to be absolutely dreadful at this sort of thing. Yet Jim couldn't understand why he didn't want Sebastian to take him to get his ears pierced?

Now the boy could probably take his leave in relative safety. Sebastian might not bother him anymore, but then again, he might try to "help." Luka didn't really want that at all. He needed to devise a strategy as to how he was going to get around this, but all he could think of was going outside and simply hiding in the woods. But that did give him a plan. Perhaps it was one that would at the same time prove to Jim once and for all that he was perfectly capable of looking out for himself? Finally, a smile crossed the boy's face as he leaped out of bed and headed toward a box in the corner of his room. He would need supplies, after all.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, again~! Bit of a theme we've got going. Bit of parallels... Bit of flavour...**

**I don't know why I started off on this mini arc all of a sudden lmao. I had like 298475109467 other arcs lined up already in my head, but I was just like "naw, I wanna write some personal drama." Sometimes, that's the way to go, I think. As much as life or death shit is fun to write, this can be really, really, interesting, too. And I think it's really about time we talked about this shit. Actually, it's waaaaaaaaay past, but now I think I might finally have the ability to sort of nail it, maybe? **

**We'll see.**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	72. What Must Be Done

The drive to Gehenna felt longer than usual, yet it felt absurdly short, all the same. Jim knew that he probably wasn't going to resolve all of his problems or figure out the answer to them in the span of that drive, especially since he didn't in the couple of hours between the fight he had with Luka and the moment he set off, but he at least hoped he would be in a better place when he went to see Daniel. The brunet was asking for his help, after all. The menace felt like he ought to have his shit together better than this if he was going to do that.

How was he going to help others when he couldn't even help himself? This question plagued him, not just in this situation, but in many others. Sometimes, he yearned for peace of mind, but dreaded the consequences that would realistically entail. He could not have an ordinary and "simple" life, free of pain or hardship. It would bore him to tears and the plentiful peace would prove agonising for him. He was set in stone, it seemed, but Luka didn't have to be. It was hypocritical, yes, but contradiction was how one got through the day. Things simply weren't fair, sometimes, and Luka simply needed to learn that, as much as the menace wanted him to not suffer.

Jim parked the car outside of the gates and decided to walk to the small square where he agreed to meet Daniel. It was sunny out and a pretty alright day, despite some clouds appearing over the horizon. Jim figured he had a few hours until it started to rain. Plenty of time to talk to Daniel and maybe find shelter, if the talk went on past that. Although, Jim wondered if he was bringing storm clouds with him, as townsfolk seemed to stay out of his way, and not in the usual venerative way.

Once one reached the end of Main Street, there was the square, in the center of town. Well, as close to "center" as possible. On Jim's maps, it was a little off. It was an odd place, as it had been put there after the buildings that once stood on that spot were declared condemned and couldn't be salvaged and subsequently, had to be developed and repaved, but it wasn't paved quite like the road. One could still drive on it, and vehicles always had the right of way, but people sort of walked wherever, the majority of the time. Few people had cars in Gehenna, so there was no point in being too cautious. Most of the time, it was just easier to take a detour around it if one was traveling by car, but emergency vehicles always had the right to cut through immediately.

This was a popular gathering place for people in Gehenna, as it was where many food stalls congregated at lunch time. Most changed spots to other parts of the city until dinner, but some stayed put all day. All of the buildings were brightly painted, here, most of them having some sort of mural on them. There was at least one Gehennan flag hanging from the upstairs window of one of the houses, and stone benches with lions carved into them sat along the walls and around the fountain in the center. Naturally, it looked like a lion with water spilling out of its mouth. They were definitely patriotic, here. It made the menace a bit uncomfortable, if he was honest. He never really liked his symbol being adopted this way. It felt like idol worship, somehow, and he didn't want to be anybody's idol. He just wasn't the type, he felt. Still, this was where Daniel told him to meet with him, and sure enough, he saw the brunet sitting in front of the fountain, staring at one of the food stalls and seeming to give it a lot of thought.

"What's up, Danny-boy?" Jim called out, capturing the other man's attention while taking a seat on the bench beside him.

"Not much, Jimmy-boy," Daniel answered. "Well, there is stuff, but you know what I mean."

"I get you. So, the old hag got your number, huh?"

"Ugh… Yeah…" Mister Westley groaned, immediately seeming as though he were in pain at the memory. "I stayed up last night making sure I took down all of those old listings. I think I got them all. I should change my number, soon, but I was holding off in case she called back."

"Isn't that like, the exact opposite of what you want?"

"It is, but I'm hoping that she'll accidentally tell me if she's found out what school Sam's going to. If she crashes the move-in, I'm going to go fucking mental..."

"Want some thugs to help keep the peace?" Jim offered.

"If you could, that would be great. It would make me feel better, at least," Daniel sighed, leaning forward. "If anything happens after that, I'm pretty sure Sam will tell Gerry and get the Midfords mobilised."

"Which will also get the Phantomhives heading out. Don't worry about it. We take care of our people," For a moment, there, Jim actually felt nonchalant and casual, despite his own problems. "It's just more stress you don't need, though, isn't it?"

"It is. God, we don't need this… Sam's moving out on her own for the first time, which has her a bit nervous already, and I… Well… I'm going to start living on my own again. I missed her the first time, but this time? I'm really gonna miss her…"

"It's hard, isn't it?" the menace sighed. "We're working on getting Revy out of the house, too, but it's probably different, since I didn't raise him."

"Look forward to Luka, then," Daniel laughed, looking at the ground before looking back up at his friend. His smile faltered, hesitating as he observed the blonde's face. His friend nodded lightly and gave him a smile, but it was a bit dull in its luster. "You alright?"

"Hm? Oh… Yeah… I had a bit of a row with Luka earlier today," the blonde informed, folding his hands together. "Thing is, I think he's right. One of the things I actually admire you for, Dan, is that you stuck with Sam, even when it was hard. I think I might've ended up dumping Luka on Sebastian the first chance I had."

Blinking, Mister Westley pondered that for a moment. "Well, thanks, I guess," he said. "But I don't think it's really admirable or anything. I just didn't have a choice. If I had a butler like Sebastian, I might've done the same. It's a lot of responsibility, y'know? It kinda would've been nice to have somebody else being the 'grown up,' especially since I wasn't really done growing yet, myself. I'm still not grown, yet."

Letting out a sigh, the other man seemed to deflate in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. "Yeah, I kinda get that… It's just what you have to do, isn't it? But I don't really think Luka sees it that way. I was his parent and then I just kinda… pissed off and left him with Sebastian while I went to do God knows what… I just-" Jim paused, taking a breath. "I just… wanted him to have a better life, y'know? I didn't think I could give that to him. Sebastian's got his shit together, while I..."

"...Am fucking feral?" Daniel concluded.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I don't think you're wrong for that," stated the brunet, looking up as he tried to see if he could peek over the rooftops to see if he could spot the occasional beehive that sat on top of one. "Everybody in this situation's gotta do what they have to do to take care of the smaller ones. Lately, though, I've been kind of worried that my time looking after Sam is ending..."

"That's bullshit. You know you're going to be doting on her all through college, and when she graduates or gets married, you'll be right there, blubbering your eyes out," retorted the menace, finally smiling for real again.

"And you're gonna do all of that for Luka, aren't you? You'll get to laugh at me, but then I get to roast you when it's your turn, dick."

"Yeah, you're probably right..." Then, his smile fell again. "I just don't know how to make it up to him, though..."

"What's there to make up? Just tell him how it is."

"Ciel and I have been talking about having kids..."

In an instant, the two of them were rendered silent. Daniel was silent so that he could dwell on that information, while Jim was silent in order to gauge his friend's reaction. From the silence, however, Jim didn't think it seemed good.

"I mean, we're not ready for it yet, and we still haven't decided exactly how it's gonna work, but yeah..." he continued, awkwardly breaking the silence in an effort to move it along. "If it's gonna happen, though, I don't want Luka to feel like I just abandoned him in favour of someone else… Even though, that's kinda what it seems like..." He paused again before looking at the other. "Is that wrong of me?"

"I dunno..." Daniel answered. He really didn't. He had no idea. "I think I kinda understand, though. It's part of the reason why I'm not moving in with Ted after Sam moves out. I need to find myself better as someone who's like, separate from everyone else, right? But… I also don't really want to be a parent to Ruby yet… It's like I've moved on to fast, y'know? For you, though? Well… I think you're gonna need to have a bit of a heart to heart with Luka? You really didn't abandon him. I know what abandoning your child looks like, believe me… Barbara Westley? She's the fucking queen of that shit… That's not what you did… You stayed with him, even if you're not like, his main caretaker, you're still looking out for him and taking care of him where you can, right? You're being a bit hard on yourself. It's not your job to be his dad. You're his brother. In an ideal world, that's how it would be for everybody, including me and Sam, but it's not. It's not that clear cut. We both do our best, but at the end of the day… We just do our best," Daniel said, letting out a sigh. "We raise 'em up the best we can, even though we're still growing, too, and then, we have to let them loose and have them do their own thing."

"I guess..." Jim seemed to be coming around to the idea, perking up a bit. His smile had a bit of glow to it, now as he sat there, looking at his feet, still. "I don't wanna be wrong, though," he said. "I don't wanna be wrong and lose him forever, or fuck him up. I want him… I want him to have it better than I do… I mean, I have it good right now, don't get me wrong. I have it really good right now… But Luka could be better. He doesn't have to do the crazy shit I do. He doesn't have to be fucked up like me. He could do literally whatever the fuck he wants to."

"Even if that means following in your footsteps?"

"Everything… except that..." The menace's lips formed a thin line as he frowned, furrowing his brow as he became irritated at no one in particular. He wasn't upset with Daniel or Luka, and he wasn't even really all that upset with himself, but rather, with the situation, it seemed. "I know it's kinda… shitty of me, but I just don't really want him doing this job. He's got all the potential in the world. He could go out and live a pretty normal and happy life! I just… I don't get it… I don't fucking understand what he sees in it or why he wants to do this nasty... horrible... gig."

A glimmer of amusement flickered in Daniel's chest for a moment, sending the command for him to smile up to his face like a pulse of electricity. It was hard to get his muscles to move the way he wanted them to and to hide the smile that desperately fought to form on his face.

"I kinda thought Sam should be prime minister." Daniel said. "She has the brains for it. Really, she could change the world, if she put her mind to it, but now she's obsessed with supernatural culture and history. That's what she wants to do and I can't tell her different, even if I don't really think she should do something that keeps her tethered to this part of the world." he explained, gesturing around them. "No offense. Supernaturals are great, but… Yeah… She's an adult who can make her own choices, now. There's nothing I can do to change her mind, so all I can do is support her and make sure she's making it, alright. I think there's gonna probably come a time like that for you and Luka, too."

"I know..." relented the menace, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. "And I hate it. I know that if he's gonna go off and do what he's gonna do, and I want to protect him… I'm gonna have to teach him, now."

"And you don't want to?"

"It hurts to," Jim stated. "I just don't wanna talk about that stuff with him. I know it's selfish, but… I don't want to. He's going to grow up someday and stop being a kid, but I want him to be a kid as long as possible. I want him to have more time than I did," Pausing, he turned his head to face his friend. "Don't you? Don't you wish Sam could?"

"Yeah," Daniel nodded. "That's why I'm going to help her out. I'm not just going to cut her off completely, you know. That's not what this is. I'm always going to look after Samantha-Whether she likes it or not. It's my job and I'm not giving it up for anything. You don't have to, either. I know that it's not really the same, but… If he's going to go into… that business… He's probably got the best shot of being good at it possible. He's got you to help him and teach him how to be the baddest assassin who ever lived."

"That's one way to look at it, I suppose..." The menace didn't seem to terrible convinced, but he at least conceded to that much. Still, he didn't quite think that Daniel understood. The Westley was at least trying his best to be helpful and in a way, he was. He gave Jim ideas to expand upon and entertain. He gave him reassurance, which is sort of what he needed to hear, but he didn't give the menace what he wanted to hear, and Jim was thankful for that.

No, Jim couldn't keep Luka from changing. He couldn't keep him from doing the things that Jim did not want him to do forever. He couldn't shield him from the world's ills or prevent him from ever feeling pain. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. That was just the way things were. Exposure could happen to anyone, but if anyone was going to see more of the world of night, it was probably Luka and that scared Jim. Worse, the menace felt as though he was partially to blame.

It was obvious to everyone, however, including himself, that this was not the case. It was an impossibility. Pure and simple. Jim was not the one who put them out on the street in the first place, and neither were their parents. It was a freak accident. A cruel game of chance, or fate, or whatever one wanted to call it. It was a gamble one was forced to take simply by virtue of living in the first place.

And there would come a time when Luka would feel pain again. Maybe he would be injured, or lose a loved one, or have his heart broken, but he would somehow, by any means, feel pain. Whether he consented to it or not, it was an inevitability. Daniel was right about one thing, though: Luka could either face it alone, or with the help of his brother. That was the real choice, here. They were the only options that Jim could choose. Luka had already made his choice in the matter. Clearly, to everyone including Jim, he wanted to brave the turbulent and merciless sea of life with his brother to guide and support him. No all that was left was for Jim to either accept or deny him.

"That's obvious, isn't it?" Jim asked. "It's just what we've got to do… I'll give it my best shot, but I still don't think I'm ready to get really real about that stuff with him right now…"

"I believe in you," Daniel said, slapping the menace on the back. "I don't think you have to get like, super real with him. It's probably okay to be a bit vague, but don't talk down to him or anything. Teenagers don't like that. They'll be out for blood and rebellion if they sense weakness."

"Did Samantha give you trouble or something?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to try and parent somebody you know is smarter than you? Samantha is literally a genius and I'm pretty sure she could sense that I was intimidated. Sometimes, when I ran out of time to do it, she'd do my homework for me!"

"Damn, Daniel… I knew there was something up with a few of those papers of yours… Is it always like that, though? Kids are too damn smart sometimes," Narrowing his eyes, the blonde looked to his friend with a look of confusion and concern. He sat up straighter for a moment and gesticulated wildly as he spoke. "Like, I'll be talking to Luka sometimes and it's like: 'how the hell did you learn about that?' I mean, I get he's in our family, but Jesus..."

"I know! Samantha was the same! You just can't treat them like little kids, Jim. If you treat them more like equals, they tend to react better."

"That's part of my problem, though… I want him to be small and cute forever, but..." The menace took a deep breath and let it out again. "He's gonna grow up… I'll have to just… get the fuck over it, I guess..." He paused, resting his chin in his palm before laughing.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "You invited me here to help you with your shit, and I've been here, yammering on about my problems."

"Don't worry about it. It's honestly a little validating to be helping you out like this? I can't deal with ancient evils or organised crime, but I do kinda understand how to raise kids a little bit," Daniel laughed. His cheeks raised, wrinkling the corners of his green eyes while dimples formed at the corners of his mouth. The man always had a jolly-looking smile. It was the same when they were in school, only it felt a bit odd, now that he was wearing a button-up shirt with a necktie. "You will help me if Barbara shows up, though, right? As long as you can promise me that, you can talk all you want."

"Yeah, I think we can handle her," the blonde nodded. "Just tell me how much 'crime family' pizzazz you want and we'll take care of it."

"How much pizzazz are you offering?"

"Well, do you want a strongly worded letter, do you want us to just intimidated her if she shows up at Samantha's school, or are we talking a 'home visit?' I can arrange any of those, easy. Just say the word."

"I don't think a shakedown is nessecary..."

"I didn't say that. Just intimidation. A shakedown is when I intimidate and then using said intimidation, I encourage her to part with something of value. I don't want any of her stuff, so there's no point in that. I would just inform her that it is within her best interests to leave you and Samantha alone. See? Easy-peasy. Now, I can get criminal if you feel it is necessary, but I would only recommend it if you feel threatened by her."

"Well… I am worried that she might pressure Sam into leaving campus and going with her somewhere… If she does, she might pressure her into something else..."

"We can fix that," the Lion said. He smiled, but there was an odd sort of wickedness to his amusement. Daniel thought he resembled some mob boss from a movie, especially in the way that he worded things. For just a moment, the Westley thought it might be a bit cruel to send the lions and hounds upon the woman that birthed him, but then again, when he thought about the time she tried to marry off his little sister, he became progressively more okay with her being menaced. "Does Samantha have our numbers? Make sure she has them and tell her to call us if she ever feels like she's in danger. Doesn't matter if it's Barbara or not. We'll look out for her. I'm pretty sure the Midfords have the same idea, though…"

"Right, right… Having a rich girlfriend probably doesn't hurt."

"A rich girlfriend who's father is a member of the Round Table Conference and has kinda been wanting this relationship to happen for a while, I think."

"Really? What makes you say that?"

"Trust me… Rupert ships it," the menace said, narrowing his eyes in a closed-lip smile. "Yeah, it would probably be 'better' for her to marry a noble, but chemistry is chemistry. Though, I may be a bit biased." Poking his cheeks and batting his eyes for comedic effect, the menace forced a laugh from his friend.

"So if anything goes wrong, Rupert's going to make things happen, too?"

"Oh, you know it. Samantha's got backing, mate. She's the girlfriend of a powerful guy who's like, a distant cousin of another powerful guy, who's married to another powerful guy, and both of those guys are friends with her brother… Oh, and then she has the backing of all of your friends too, Dan, not just me and Ciel. Then, if we need to get HELLSING involved, we probably can, since they're wanting her for the research department and is related to both Ciel and Rupert… Honestly, anybody that messes with her is thoroughly fucked. There's no getting around that. Like… I'm not saying that we could make them 'disappear' but… It is an option..."

"I don't really think Barbara needs that..." the brunet explained. It came out a bit slower than he wanted it to, but his brain was catching up from the obvious devious dealings that Jim was alluding to. This wasn't the sort of thing that necessarily make Daniel feel surprised or threatened anymore, but occasionally, he felt like he needed a little extra time to process it.

"Oh, probably not, but it's on the table if it's ever necessary..."

"Let's do our best to avoid it, how about that?" While Daniel was pleased that his friend cared about things so intensely, he knew that he didn't want to resort to that. Barbara was a nuisance at best, although the man did find himself genuinely fearing that his mother would try and spirit his sister away to parts unknown for god knows what purpose, despite her having no legal means, now that Samantha was an adult. He knew that Barbara would either try to drain Samantha's assets, or marry her off as a bartering chip in order to further her own position. It wouldn't be the first time she attempted the latter if she did, and given her current financial situation, she was certainly capable of the prior.

He couldn't imagine that Barbara was looking for work or anything right then. Anything that she would be somewhat willing to do required connections that she no longer had. She could certainly try to work her way up, but that was impossible for two reasons: First, she had nothing to put on a resume. She had gotten married right out of college, earning her M-R-S degree and proudly so. Until now, she had been a "housewife" that was never really home. That lead directly into the second problem: She wasn't willing to do the work. Even if it was a small amount, she wouldn't dream of it. That combined with her rampant and abrasive classism barred her from any job she might have been actually qualified for.

That was why she was trying to reconnect with Daniel and Samantha. She was always the sort who needed a new handbag or two every fashion season and it was never cheap. Her predicament was truly her own doing, as she wanted to continue living like a rich woman when she had no income. Of course the inheritance was bound to run out. Daniel did feel sort of bad for Nathan, though. He didn't know for certain, but Daniel was sure that Barbara had bled his older brother dry, although Daniel didn't feel too poorly about it. Nathan was a mummy's boy and had inherited some of her vices. That's why Daniel was also certain that Nathan blew all of his money on crap, too. Probably bought a luxury car or two and it's sitting in the yard of whatever girl he's shacking up with to rot, as he can't afford the upkeep anymore. Or, maybe he sold it for booze or drugs. Either way, Daniel's pity did not run deep.

Still, the middle Westley sibling couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of curiosity about the situation. As useless and perhaps detrimental as it might be, he sort of wanted to see them. He didn't want to talk—heavens, no! They had done their talking. He just wanted to see them. He wanted to see how they were doing, and most likely failing. It was somewhat cruel and morbid of him, yes, but he still craved the sick and sweet schadenfreude of watching those pretentious, posh, putzes fall, fail, flail, and flounder. In an ideal world, they would realise their wrongdoings and work to rectify them. They would beg at his feet for his forgiveness and he would choose whether or not he would show them mercy.

But while Daniel was known for his somewhat modest intellect and lack of sense, he was not stupid. No, perhaps that is too harsh. Daniel had simply cracked the pattern and realised a rather harsh and unpleasant truth: He may never get that satisfaction.

Realistically, he knew that his mother and his brother would not see the ways that they had wronged him and still tried to wrong him. Even if they did, he knew that they would simply shove the blame onto him for making such a fuss about it, or just continue to deny it entirely. Their sweet words were all traps to get him to lower his guard and take pity on them. Then, they would strike. If that didn't work, they would make him out to be the villain so that he would bend to their wills, and if all else didn't work, they would resort to petty name calling and insults. The satisfaction of gaining the upperhand and triumphing over them would never come and he simply needed to accept that.

Even so, the curiosity plagued him. "Just once." he thought. Just to see their clothes. Or their hair. Maybe he could check to see if Barbara was wearing her usual brand of expensive perfume, or if she had substituted it with something similar, but cheaper. Were her clothes the same as last season? Or did she simply take out a loan or credit. Hopefully, they didn't put his name down on anything. That would be a pain. Luckily, he had friends in high places that could probably get him out of that situation should things come to that, but still, it was a scary thought. Perhaps it was best to stay away after all.

"I kinda wonder what they're doing, though..." he confessed aloud. "Probably struggling, now that they don't have money and don't want to work. Do you think you and Ciel can help me out if they put my name on a loan or something?"

"Fraud? Sure thing," Jim replied flatly, without any real thought at all. It just felt so obvious to him. "Fraud's super easy. They'll probably end up in jail, but we can fix it, no problem."

"Who knows… Might be good for them. Bring them to reality, maybe? But probably not..."

"Listen, Danny-boy," the demon stated, putting his arm on the other man's shoulder and giving it a pat. "Whatever dodgy nonsense they put you in the middle of, Ciel and I are a hundred times shadier. That's a promise."

"Is that something you should really be bragging about?"

"Dunno. That's a moral question that's far too complicated for me to want or care to get into right now," Jim wanted to continue, but as he spoke, he felt a drop of water land smack dab on the top of his head. Reaching up, he felt the spot, making sure it was indeed damp and that he didn't just hallucinate the sensation, before looking up. During the time that the two of them conversed, the dark clouds that were over the horizon had crept up on them, covering the blue sky and changing it into a typical English grey. Another droplet landed on the blonde's cheek, just below his eye. He wiped it away, making it look as though he were crying.

"Tut tut, it looks like rain," Daniel remarked, holding out a hand to catch something, but catching nothing. "We should probably start heading back. See if we can beat it."

"I'll walk you home," offered the demon. "It's on the way."

The two men rose from their seats and started the long walk to Daniel's house. It was along the same street that led here, but it was still a couple of blocks. It was a couple of blocks they started walking slowly on, but gradually, they began to pick up the pace to a trot as the sky continued to threaten them. A few droplets turned into a light drizzle and a light drizzle turned into light rain. Jim slowed his pace so that his human companion could keep up with him. It was just as well. He would have only been marginally drier by the time they both reached Daniel's front door.

"Take care, Dan," the demon said. "And thanks."

"Back at you," the human replied with a smile. "Go on and take care of yours and I'll see you on move-in day."

Nodding with a grin of his own, Jim began to turn his back, hearing the door shut and lock behind him as he looked down the long sidewalk. The streets were emptying as people began heading indoors. They ducked inside of shops to wait out the rain or simply returned home, while others bemoaned forgetting an umbrella on their way back. Others simply paid no mind. It was just a spot of rain. Nothing shocking or to lose one's head over. That was the sort that Jim was on his trek to the car. The rain wouldn't hurt him. He was much sturdier than that.

Closing the car door behind him, he could hear the rain beat down on the car outside and see it striking his window, running down like a river. He didn't feel wet until he reached the car and remembered what dry felt like. A shudder ran through him from the shock of it. His blonde hair laid flat against his head while his bangs and stray locks stuck to his face. In a feeble attempt to regain his feeling of comfort, he fruitlessly pulled at his clothes, trying to unstick them from his skin, only to give up and put on his seatbelt. Letting out a sigh, he switched on the car and began the trek back home. Although he had prided his resilience just moments ago, he sort of wished he didn't have to drive back, but heading back outside to seek shelter with Daniel was far worse. Maybe he had simply grown a bit soft.

Perhaps so, but he found it difficult to desire the alternative. Luka always wanted to go camping with him, and Jim had been once or twice since his resurrection, but as far as he was concerned, he had had his fill of camping. It was fine when done for survival, but he found it difficult to imagine doing regularly as a form of recreation. As he was surrounded by the ambiance of the rain, he felt vindicated in that. He found it difficult to imagine why Luka would want to intentionally return to such misery.

He'd have to try, if he wanted to get along with the boy, though, and he would. He would try. Perhaps he'd even go a few times, but definitely not as often as the boy wanted. That was where Jim drew the line. It was fun to sort of return to that life in bits and pieces, like on that anniversary trip he and his husband took, but not in full force. Jim liked living in a house with heating and cooling, he liked soft mattresses and pillows, and he liked that the place was clean and safe to reside in, apart from the few mishaps. There wasn't always dirt beneath his fingernails, or in his hair, or covering his skin in a thin layer. There was always food to eat. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand it at all.

This wasn't even the same world anymore. There were buildings of concrete, smoothly paved roads, and machines that could transport people miles in minutes. There were traffic lights stopping his car and advertisements flashing at him as he stayed stationary until the light changed green. Jim wasn't the same person he was, either. Luka needed to understand that. Jim needed him to understand that. Things had changed and there was no going back to the way things were before.

A long sigh escaped the menace as his vehicle came to a slow stop again. He sunk into his seat, deflating a bit as he thought about how much longer it was going to take him to get home and subsequently, how much longer he was going to stay in this awful weather. Then, his phone rang, eliciting a loud, drawn out groan as he realised that he needed to answer it. Sitting up, he glanced over at the screen in the center of his dashboard and pushed the "accept call" button.

"What's up, Bass-man?" he asked, putting on a smile as the light changed again.

"I'm afraid that we may have a bit of a problem," the butler lead with, but that alone didn't concern Jim in the slightest.

"What else is new?" Jim sighed. "What's happening, now?"

"Well, it would appear that Luka is caught outside in the rain," Sebastian calmly informed, his tone speckled with his usual air of bemusement. "He snuck out a while ago with his camping kit—Well, he thought he did, but you know me."

"And he hasn't come back in yet?" tapping his steering wheel, Jim's brow furrowed. "Have you tried calling him?"

"That was my initial thought, but I found his mobile on his bed."

"Ugh! That's just like him… Why even buy him the damn thing if he's never going to bring it with him?"

"Do you want me to go after him?" Sebastian inquired. "Initially, I was going to, but he seemed to be trying to make a bit of a point. I apologise for my hesitation."

"No, ugh… It's alright..." Rubbing his chin with one hand and keeping his hand on the wheel, he thought about it for a moment. "Just… Just wait him out, I guess. He'll have to come back inside eventually. We can try to talk some sense into him then."

"As you wish, Sir."

Hanging up, the menace carried on down the road in silence. How childish! What on Earth was that boy thinking? He wouldn't freeze or starve to death, and there weren't any wild animals that could hurt him, but still! Trying to camp out in the rain! All by himself!

...Did he at least bring a tent? And a blanket? It would be too wet for him to keep a fire going. Jim hoped that he wasn't too cold. It was almost September, so surely Luka wouldn't pack too light. Were his clothes warm enough? Why was he staying outside?

"Did_ I_ do this?" Jim thought, gripping the steering wheel as worry firmly took root inside of him. The roads were wet, but he rushed back home as quickly as he could without crashing another car. When he got there, though, Luka was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry about that... I'll try to get the next one up. It's always like, the middle of an arc that I always feel like I sort of drag my feet on lmao. It's 'cause I always just want to write the end!**

**Hopefully, that means the next one will be faster. I'll probably start on it as soon as this one's up. ****I've got some really neat stuff in mind. Part of it's going to be kind of hard, though, so I dunno how long that bit will take! I'll do my best!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	73. Getting To Know You

Luka had packed his bag with everything he thought he might need. Food, his sleeping back, some camping crockery, a tent, and all of the other bits and bobs he usually brought or wanted to bring with him for a while, but hadn't had the chance to. No one wanted to go camping with him, so now he was, carrying a kit that was about three-fourths of a full-sized Luka. It was nothing for him, being a strong demon, and all. He lugged all of it into the woods past the garden of the estate and found a good spot to set it all down.

It was a piece of cake. The boy proudly set up his tent, made sure it was strong and stable against the ground, just like he was taught to and set everything he didn't need to be outside of it inside. He gathered stones and sticks, kicking away any debris and making himself a fire pit. Then, he sat down and congratulated himself on a job well done. See? Easy. Only an idiot couldn't do it and Luka was no idiot.

The boy had been living outside as far back as he could remember, so this was as effortless as breathing, especially with these new, fancy, tools. Hell, he could do without them if he had to! Jim was crazy for not thinking he could. So what if he had to rely on Jim a bit back then? He certainly didn't need him, now! While he wasn't a grownup, he was grown. This year, he turned fourteen. That was way too old to not be making something of himself, as far as Luka could see. Jim could try and baby him all he liked, but Luka knew better. If he wanted to be tough, he'd have to get tough.

Giggling to himself, Luka grinned, finding himself rather pleased with this plan. Yes, if Jim wasn't going to let him be the man he was meant to be, then Luka would have to take charge and prove to Jim once and for all that he knew what he was doing. He was more than capable of making it on his own, as far as he could see. He was doing good. Everything was set up and all he had to do was wait out the night. Jim would probably be worried about him and running away might have been a bit childish, but that was just a necessary evil, as far as Luka was concerned. Sure, he felt a bit bad about it, but Jim needed to learn that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and subsequently, should be allowed to make his own decisions. There would be no more telling him what to do. When all was said and done, Luka would be on his way to becoming his own man and the badass he was meant to be.

He was a Macken, after all! He was in with the most dangerous and powerful families in all of England! The Phantomhives, Midfords, and Hellsings, all knew him on a first name basis and liked him. They even gave him Christmas presents! He knew all of the biggest baddasses in the United Kingdom. Soldiers, assassins, and spies were commonplace. It was as ordinary as one's parents and the parents of one's friends being dentists, plumbers, or accountants. Why wouldn't he want to join them? That's what all of the adults around him were doing, including his own brother, so it would be absurd to assume that he wouldn't be involved in the twilight world in some capacity. Jim was being hypocritical and it wasn't fair.

Jim was never fair. He didn't really even seem to want Luka around, as far as the boy could see. Every time Luka asked to do something with him, it seemed like he was being brushed off. It was always: "Not now, I'm too busy," or "not now, I have a mission to prepare for," or even "I just got back from a mission and want to sit for a minute." It's always something. There was always a reason to not spend time with Luka and Luka noticed it. He wasn't stupid. He knew when he wasn't wanted. It wasn't as though Jim tried to hide it or anything.

Sniffing, the boy poked his fire with a stick with a shudder. It was getting colder out, both in general and as the sun started to set. At the end of the week, it would be September and the HELLSING Juniour Course's fall session would start a week from then; And Luka wouldn't be a part of it. A sigh escaped him as he thought about it. It wasn't some boyish, whimsical, camp, where one goes to have adventures and make crafts. It was a serious career investment, usually attended by children of HELLSING agents, and Luka wouldn't be an exception to that, but he was still disappointed. The situation disappointed him.

He would always hear stories about the adventures that seemingly everyone else had been on but him. It felt like he was being left out and left behind. This was his one chance of him feeling that inclusion as fare as he knew, so losing it dealt a bit of a blow. It was all Jim's stupid fault. Whether or not Luka did anything was always up to him and since he was determined to undermine Luka's growth, of course he'd say "no." The boy felt betrayed—betrayed by the same person who always had his back before. It never mattered if what they did was wrong or right, as long as they had fun and got by. Whatever happened to that? Whatever happened to Jim Macken? Who could eat three kidney pies in one sitting and run faster than Spring Heeled Jack? "Just stick with me always," he'd say, "and if anybody throws stones at you, I'll throw a pile of horse shit back at them!" He was rambunctious, but kind to Luka. He was always there for him. They were supposed to be together always.

What a crock of lies. What dirty, evil, horrible, rotten lies Jim told! Jim never stuck up for Luka anymore. If anything, he always blocked his path. Adults were just terrible, it seemed.

Prodding the fire, something cold hit Luka's thumb. It was cold enough that he almost thought he burned himself for a moment, but after that feeling passed, he immediately recognised that it was water. Water? Another drop fell on the top of the boy's head, then followed by another, and another.

"Bollocks!" Luka said, looking up as the sky went dark and the water droplets continued to fall. As one hit his forehead, it was like a light went off in his brain, causing his eyes to widen as he realised that he had forgotten something very important.

"The rain cover!" Throwing down the stick, Luka scrambled to his feet and crawled inside the tent, rummaging around in his bags until he found what he was looking for. He couldn't find everything, though, but he didn't have time to keep looking. Quickly, he clumsily assembled the pieces of rod he could find, finding comfort in the miracle that they fit together before hastily stabbing it into the ground. The earth was getting soft from the water. He tried tying the cover to it, but it started to fall over, finally doing so when Luka tied the opposite corner to a nearby tree branch.

The rain was starting to pelt him hard, now, running down his face and causing his hair and clothes to stick to him. The cover was over the tent, even though parts of it were on the ground, but that would have to do for now. Quickly, Luka crawled back into the tent and zipped it shut, shivering as he took off his muddy shoes. He was soaking wet with his only source of heat being suffocated to death outside. Digging in one of his bags, he pulled out a blanket and wrapped it around himself as tightly as he could to hopefully trap the heat his body was already generating.

This was terrible. It wasn't impossible for Luka to deal with, but it wasn't a good start to his first night on his own. The sound of rain striking his haphazardly applied tarp assailed his eardrums with no other noise to keep him company. There weren't even forest sounds anymore. There were no birds or insects. Just this white noise that never seemed to let up. Before, he had his fire to tend to, and other things on his to do list, but now? Now he couldn't do anything and he was confronted by the fact that he really was on his own. He felt miserable and cold in the rain, but worse, he felt… lonely?

It surprised him. Luka was all alone in that tent with the realisation that he was alone. It was cold. It was raining. He was alone, all by himself. It shocked him, really. He hadn't realised just how awful it could be. Certainly, he was tougher than this, right? That was the whole point of this, right? He was tough! He could handle this! He could and he had before, but back then, he wasn't alone. Jim was there, huddled together with him, putting on a brave face so that Luka wouldn't be afraid or feel as miserable. If it didn't bother Jim, then surely, he could brave it, too, right? Now, Luka had realised just how much of that persona was a farce.

If Jim did not act afraid, Luka would feel less afraid. If the cold didn't bother Jim, then Luka wouldn't focus on it so much. They'd huddle together and Jim would wrap his arms around the younger boy, squeezing him tightly so he could envelop Luka with what little heat he had. Sometimes, Jim would go off to "tell those village boys what for," telling Luka to stay behind and let him take care of it. He always came back with bruises but boasted about how he taught them a lesson. Like he said, the boys would always leave them alone for a bit before starting back up again, but Luka now figured that they were just a little spooked that he fought back despite most likely beating the shit out of him. Luka believed him, though. He really did. When they couldn't find enough food, Jim would always insist that he wasn't that hungry and give Luka a bit more to eat. It was so obvious, wasn't it? Luka now figured that he was lying. How stupid could Luka have been? How could he not have noticed that? How could he have fallen for those lies so easily. Even when Jim wished the villagers would die, Luka wondered, did he really? Or was that a brave front too? Was that just him hiding how scared he was? How small he felt? So that Luka wouldn't feel as poor and as pathetic as they were? Stupid! How could Luka have been so stupid?! Was that the truth?! Was it?! Then what did he seek out that demon for?! What did he die for?! Huh?! Why did he seek out that demon and grant that stupid wish?!

Is that why Jim didn't trust him? Because he didn't get it sooner? Even after all of this time, was he still the one who was being stupid? Luka's eyes felt wet, too, the more he thought about it. Was all of this his fault?

There was no one else around to tell him otherwise, so he had no choice but to wallow in these thoughts by himself. That much, he could do on his own, at least. He sniffed. Everything smelled like rain and wet dirt. What a horrible smell. His fire was long dead and it was getting colder. The boy shivered in his blanket, drawing his arms and legs close to stay warm. This place was not comfortable. It wasn't comfortable at all. If he had someone with him to help lift his spirits, it would be one thing, but there was no one there to help him stop feeling so terribly. No one was going to comfort him or help him keep warm. He had braved all of this before, once, and knew he could do it, but doing it alone was no fun at all.

He used to not have a tent. He used to sleep in an abandoned house with no doors or windows. Dirt got in and the roof was collapsing. It was cold and dark and damp, but it was home. Luka did not live there with Jim for fun. They did it because they didn't have anywhere else to go. There was no warm food that they did not steal or scavenge and throw on the fire. There were no soft beds, either. There was only stone and dirt. Sometimes, they'd put grass or leaves down or something, but that was it. Yet Luka remembered those days very fondly. Those were the days when it was himself and his big brother against the world and Jim made it fun. He could make a game out of anything, make dark, rainy, nights feel warm, and make much bigger people seem small before him. Now, Luka realised that maybe Jim wasn't really fearless and maybe he wasn't really the strongest or most invincible, but what Jim could do was spin misery into gold and that was the truth.

Luka could have gone back to the house, he supposed. He could return with his tail between his legs in defeat. Really, he thought he should have, but he couldn't seem to muster the strength to leave the tent. It was like he was trapped there—not by the rain, but by the memory. He could go back to that house, but Jim wouldn't welcome him with open arms. There would be no comfort, only scolding, and Luka simply didn't have the capacity to endure it right then. The boy felt like crying, but crying in front of the noble Lion would only act of proof of his weakness and as proof that Jim was right. He was right. Luka knew that now, but it would still hurt to have it rubbed in. The old Jim was gone. His brother did not care for him in the same way anymore. All the boy was was a burden for Sebastian to deal with and nothing more.

So gradually, sitting up became laying down, and Luka resigned himself to his fate. The rain would pass, eventually, and perhaps by then, he would be able to brave the outside again. Pulling the blanket over his head, he closed his eyes and stayed like that in his cocoon, debating on what was the best strategy to get out of it long enough to dig out his sleeping bag for another layer, as he laid there in a state between awakeness and dreaming.

Startled, his eyes shot open and he laid still for a moment, trying to figure out what spooked him. Something was out there in the trees and it was heading his way. It was a strong presence, but far enough away that he couldn't make it out at first. Lifting the blanket, he peeked out of it in the direction of the presence; ears alert, heart racing, breath stifled, muscles ridged and poised to either fight or flee. It grew closer and closer at a steady pace, but Luka couldn't hear it. Everything was muted by the rain.

As their proximity closed, it became clearer and clearer. Luka could feel the distinctions that were unique to it and was slowly trying to place it. Then, when it was close enough, a wave of relief washed over the boy, quashed by a jolt of pain. The unease returned as he braced himself for impact. Closing his eyes and pulling the blanket over his head, he heard the door of the tent slowly unzip. Then, something heavy fell down beside him. Then another something, making two somethings. The tension in Luka's body seemingly melted away as confusion and curiosity took hold instead.

Opening one eye, he made a hole in his wrappings to peek out of, hearing the sound of rummaging as his view was blocked by a large bag. He closed the hole as he saw something moving toward him, only to feel something warm be placed against the top of his head. With that, the zipper closed again, leaving Luka alone. Things were quiet for a moment, but the presence was still there. Loud rustling sounds from outside nearly made Luka jump out of his skin, forcing him to sit up as the whole tent moved. In doing so, he knocked over the thermos that was next to his head, forcing him to look down. Picking it up, the seal was strong enough to keep the contents inside, so he was able to warm his hands against its surface without worrying about his sleeping quarters being wet. That just left the problem outside.

A little more light was let through the fabric of the tent on one side, followed by another, and then the rhythmic sound of a stone striking a wooden stake on the sides that didn't. No water got into the tent the whole time, however. The rain cover wasn't taken off, but rather fixed in a better position. Luka bristled as the zipper was opened again.

"Terrible day for it," announced Jim as he crawled through, careful to keep his muddy boots off the floor as he balanced on his hands and knees. Working his way around so that he was sitting on his bottom, he pried his raincoat off and carefully laying it by the door, setting his feet down on it and taking off his boots. With that, he picked up Luka's shoes, too, placing them on his makeshift welcome mat and closing the door properly.

Luka could hardly believe it, even as the menace turned around and started rummaging through bags. Jim! He had actually came to Luka and moreso, he had brought bags of equipment! The boy could hardly make sense of it, so all he could do was stare.

"Drink that," Jim instructed, pointing at the thermos in Luka's hands. "It'll warm you up, a bit."

Pulling out both his sleeping bag and another blanket, the menace made his way over to his brother. Protectively, he wrapped them around the boy, making sure he was snug and at least mostly protected from the elements. Much to his relief, Luka didn't resist it, but the lad still had things to say.

"What are you doing here?" he asked despite obediently taking off the lid of the thermos. He paused to smell the contents before bringing it to his lips. Sebastian made soup for Jim to bring.

The menace didn't answer right away. He left an awkward silence in stopping to figure out what the best thing to say was, but nothing solid came to mind. So, he simply started talking.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, slumping his shoulders a bit, although he didn't stop making sure that Luka was snug. "I figured that you wanted to be by yourself a bit, but I got worried, so I wanted to check up on you."

That sounded like him. Always trying to baby Luka. Figures. But if that was the case, that left a bit of an inconsistency. "It took you longer to get here than I thought."

"I was trying to give you some space to handle yourself," Jim stated, finally letting the boy go. "I'll leave in a bit. I don't want to get in your way."

"Then why'd you come at all?"

"Like I said, I was worried," Jim's brow furrowed a bit. It was frustrating to repeat himself, especially when he was supposed to be apologising. "Look, I—I'm sorry, alright? I know that you're getting older and… I was wrong to treat you different. It's not fair of me and I need to learn how to back off a bit. I just—I need a little time. I'm sorry. It's not like flipping a switch, so I might mess up a little more, but I'll try, alright? There's just other stuff going on that I need to deal with."

"More work?"

"No. Just my own complexes."

Luka didn't turn his head to look at his brother, instead opting to look at him by just moving his eyes. Jim did, however. He looked away at that, turning his head slightly and looking at the ground. He let out a heavy sigh, like something was weighing down on him. Needless to say, it piqued the lad's curiosity a bit, but also reminded him of his own wrongdoings.

Looking down at the thermos for a moment, Luka quietly screwed the lid back on and handed it back to Jim. "Here," he said. "Have some."

"What?"

"If I'm cold, you're cold, too, right? I know you're not invincible, okay? So… stop acting like it."

Blinking, the menace tried to process that for a moment before completely drawing a blank. Still, Luka was right, at least a little. Jim did feel cold, but it wasn't to a point where it bothered him. He was a much stronger demon, after all. Still, he wordlessly took the thermos anyway and did what he was told, not wanting to mess things up with Luka any further. Luka's frown deepened, though. He still wasn't pleased.

"I'm sorry, too," the lad finally said.

"About what?"

"Huh?" That made Luka look, finally. "I ran away from home! I even hurt your feelings, earlier! Aren't you mad at me?"

Jim paused, taking a sip from the thermos, before looking up, a bit deep in thought. "I was," he finally answered. "I was really cross, if I'm honest, but now I don't really feel upset at all. It just wasn't as important as making sure you were safe."

"What? No, you don't have to do that! You've always done that! You keep lying about being upset or cold or something to spare my feelings, and you don't have to do that anymore. I've already figured it out, so there's no point..."

"Hmmm? That so? I'll keep that in mind, but I can't help but feel the way I feel, anyway," the menace said. It was disappointing that Luka had figured him out, sure, but it was a symptom of growing up. Yet, it made Jim feel a bit proud, somehow, although he knew that he would have to get more clever. "I might not be your main parent anymore, but it's just what the older sibling does. Some of it's just a force of habit, but I don't think there's ever going to be some growing out of it completely. I'm still gonna be nosy. Sucks for you, I guess."

That wasn't what Luka wanted to hear at all. Crossing his arms, he averted his gaze with a pout. If Jim wasn't going to get it, there wasn't any point.

"That said..." Jim continued, "I guess you'll just have to get strong enough to watch my back, too." He held his gaze straight ahead as he felt Luka's wide-eyed stare right on him. It was hard to not crack a bit of a smile.

"Really?!" the boy excitedly questioned, letting go of his blankets so he could crawl toward the older demon a bit. "You'll let me train?!"

"Yeah," his brother nodded, finally letting himself smile a bit. "You'll have to work really hard, though. Sebastian's tough, but so is Ciel and..."

He trailed off, unable to carry on the rest of his thought as he finally faced the lad. There was such a sparkle in his eyes. The way the boy smiled like he was going to be fulfilling a dream made him ache. Jim wished it didn't, but it did, and it hurt to see that light fade as Luka noticed the pained expression on the blonde's face. Setting the thermos down on the floor of the tent, Jim met his brother halfway, and wrapped his arms around the boy in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry..." he said, trying his best to smile so his voice stayed steady. "I've been selfish, I know, and I'm still being a bit selfish… I know I can't stop you. You need to do what you're going to do. You need to be your own person, and… And I know that helping you now will give you the best chance possible, but… I… I just wanted you to be a kid for as long as you could, alright? Even when you're training, I want you to try to do that, okay?"

His hold was overbearing, tightening around the boy like he was afraid Luka was going to disappear. More than that, his words frightened the boy. Somehow, it sounded like Jim was saying "goodbye."

"Jim?" Luka said, trying to bring his brother back down from whatever it was that was going on with him. "I'm gonna be okay."

"You..." It was painful for Jim to say, but he knew that Luka needed to hear it eventually. "You don't know that. Nobody does. When we're out there, in the field, we're all fighting so that we're the ones who get to go back home. Not everybody does. Even Ciel and I have to try our hardest to be the ones that walk away… This world that we're in… It's not kind… It's not forgiving… It's dark, and we're the lucky ones who have been able to sometimes walk back into the light again, even if it's just for a moment. That's why I want you to think really hard, Luka—think really hard about what you're throwing away. Everyone loses some innocence when they grow up, but… There's a cost to setting foot on that side, even if you didn't go there on purpose. So while you still have a choice, please… consider it..."

"Jim?" Jim was scaring the boy a bit. The illusion that he was invincible was broken, but Luka didn't expect to ever hear Jim talk like that. He he spoken normally, Luka could have brushed him off as spouting more scare tactics to try and force him to lead a boring civilian life, but he sounded so sincere. He sounded sad and a little frightened, even. It's exactly why Jim didn't want to act this way around Luka. The boy picked up on his emotions to well. They became infectious. Jim's fear became Luka's in the blink of an eye. "Jim? What's wrong? I know about that stuff, right? I know a lot about crime. Back in the day, we were criminals, too! We lived through all kinds of hardship and we were just little! I can handle it! Hell, just look at what I did to that village-"

"Don't say stuff like that… You can't kill people like that anymore… Targets only… Killing weaklings isn't worth it… There's people who need it a lot more._ A lot more. _Trust me. You haven't seen anything, yet. You can read and watch shows about all the true crime you want, but actually seeing it is different. Actually committing with your own hands is different. Having it inflicted on you is something else… We've gotten captured before, Luka. Being strong, skilled, and careful isn't always enough. It's never easy. Sometimes, you can get away with a few bad injuries. Last time, I was only shot and branded. But others? They leave scars that don't go away."

"Have you been hurt like that?" The fact that Jim didn't answer right away did nothing to curb Luka's unease.

"...yeah," Jim quietly answered. He whispered, like he was afraid of being heard. "It still hurts, sometimes. Going to the doctor helps, and so does having people around that understand, but… Some of it's always going to be here… And when it hurts, it hurts bad… Sometimes, I think about stuff that I don't want to think about… It's not as constant anymore, but it slips in, sometimes… I have to think about what I'd do differently if one or two factors were changed and I don't have any answers because none of them are ever good… They all… End… In horrors… Every scenario… All of them… They're all bad and I can't do anything but let them pass, but they just come up again later… I don't… I don't want you to be like that… I don't want you to know me like that, either…"

The blonde's voice grew more strained as he spoke and it sounded like he was just rambling, at this point. Luka wasn't even sure if they were talking about the same thing anymore. Was he having one of his attacks? If so, Luka didn't know what to do about it. Normally, he just went and got Ciel like he was told to, but he didn't want to leave Jim alone like this. If only he didn't forget his phone!

"Jim? Jim, are you alright?" The boy started to nudge his brother off of him and surprisingly, Jim let go without much fuss. When he had the older demon backed away enough, however, Jim's hands went from holding Luka to covering his own face. "Jim? Hey… Do you need me to go get Ciel? Hey, Jim?"

Jim was quiet for a moment longer, but then took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry..." he said again. When would he stop? "I'm just… I need a minute..."

The tent was silent for a while after that. Jim sat there, frozen, hiding his face while his younger brother looked on in concern. Guilt wracked the menace—and shame; He felt guilty for letting his brother see him like this and causing him to worry, but Luka wasn't foolish. He knew already that the reason he was never let to help was because of this, but now the boy just wished he fought a little harder in the past so that he knew what to do about it now. He wanted to help his older brother, but felt powerless in the face of this.

Quietly, the boy gathered his nerve and reached out to wrap his fingers around Jim's wrists. "Jim?" he whispered, giving a little bit of a tug, to test the waters, but Jim held fast.

"Please don't," the blonde immediately said. "Please… Just let me have this."

"Have what?" Luka asked. "What do you need?"

"Just… Give me this last bit of dignity, okay? Please… I know I need to explain, but… I need a minute to gather my nerve, okay? Fuck… This… This is fucking ridiculous… Shit..."

"What is? You can tell me..."

"I am… I'm—I'm so fucking stupid..." Air seeped from around the man's palms as he let out a shaky sigh. "I can yell it at strangers when swapping trauma stories, but I can't do this… It's so fucking hard and it's stupid… It's hard to tell people I give a shit about… Coming out as gay? Easy… But this? Fuck… Fuck! Ugh… I'm sorry… I don't know if I can..."

"Why? What's wrong with it? Why's it so hard?" Luka meant well, truly, but his phrasing was a bit off.

"I don't… I don't want you to look at me different." confessed the menace. "I don't want you to see me like that. I don't think I'm strong enough to handle it if that happened…"

"I'll still love you." Once again, Luka pulled on his brother's wrists, only not to pry his hands away, but to pull him closer. Standing up on his knees, the lad hugged his brother, wrapping his arms around the back of his head and shoulders so that Jim's face was still hidden against Luka's shoulder. "You don't have to look at me. I don't want you to hurt when you talk to me."

"God, I'm—I'm so fucking weak, right now..."

"I know. That's okay. I know you're not really strong all the time, so… It's alright."

This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. Luka wanted the chance to prove himself. He wanted the chance to show his brother that he was capable and strong, but not like this. The lad knew that his brother carried quite a bit of pain with him, but he didn't know how much or what kind. Knowing of it's existence and actually seeing it were two very different things and Luka wished that it wasn't so. He wished that his brother didn't have to feel this way. He wished that he could protect him from it.

"I know, I just—It's hard," the menace attempted to explain, but he couldn't quite find the words. His heart was racing and he felt as though he needed to either run away or shoot the threat dead, but he couldn't. All he could do was sit there and try to salvage his ego. It was shameful for him to allow the boy to see him like this. It was humiliating. Still, it wasn't as humiliating as what he needed to tell the lad. Of course, he would spare the grisly details. Not even Ciel knows about all of that, but even just quickly running through the gist of it was a herculean task for Jim to take on. It seemed impossible. It felt impossible, but he earnestly wanted to try.

"Luka… It's so hard to explain…" he continued. "Some things… Are just… impossible to explain… Sometimes, you have to make—you have to make choices and none of them are good. People will get hurt-some you care about and some you don't… You can get hurt, too, in horrible, evil… inhumane ways that just… Knowing about them can make you feel like a sick piece of shit. I tried, Luka. I really did. I need you to believe me when I say that. Really. I need you to. I thought of every way to get through it all, but… choosing between living and being tortured and dying slowly and painfully while also being tortured… It wasn't easy. I was a kid when this happened. I was just a kid and I had to make that choice. That fucking—Ugh! I hate it! I'm not brave, I'm not clever, and I'm not like-like _that!_ I just—I just did what I had to, okay?! I feel so… disgusted with myself every time I think about it and I know some of the people who know about it think I am, too. I… I don't know if… I'm strong enough to bear it if you thought of me that way, too… That's why it's so hard… It's so hard to talk about it… I have to go back there and I have to trust that you won't think lesser of me for doing what I did… I've seen all kinds of fucked up shit… I've done so much fucked up shit… But I had to… I had to… If I didn't, I would've died… From disease… Or being beaten… I chose only based on what I thought would get me out alive… That's all… That's all, Luka… I need you to trust me… I need you to believe me… Just… Don't look at me like I'm disgusting… That's all..."

What happened? What happened?! Luka's mind raced to try and fill in the blanks. Every crime show and every atrocity that he had learned about in history class cycled through his head as he tried to find pieces that might fit together and solve the riddle. Jim killed for a living, so was it something like that? Some particularly nasty murder he committed? But if he was a kid, it might have been before that, so was it? Luka knew the story about how he was enslaved at the Trancy estate and cleverly gained trust with the master of the house, posing as his son before finally killing him and freeing the rest of the slaves. It was a story of his cunning and his willingness to do what was necessary in order to achieve the best possible results. Did he kill someone there? Maybe while toiling away at whatever work he was meant to be doing around the house, he killed another slave that was vying for the same spot? That could work, but it didn't seem horrible enough to warrant Jim's tears. God, Luka could feel his shoulder getting damp. What was it? What was it?!

Therein was the problem, however. Luka never had the full story. "Slave" was an intentional term and a correct one, but it was a bit loose and had wiggle room for Luka to fill in his own details and impressions. He had a fundamental misunderstanding in the interpretation of that word and thus, Jim's secret was safe.

"You know… How I killed the Earl Trancy?"

Until now. Luka swallowed, somewhat frightened of the unknown. He held his older brother in a comforting manner, but his hands felt a bit numb. "Yeah?"

"You know how… I was a… a slave, right?" Jim asked, stumbling over the word a bit.

"Y-yeah?"

"Well… I, uh… I-I…" the older demon had to pause. He needed another second to psych himself into just saying it. "I wasn't—I wasn't the ordinary kind…" He chickened out. He started the process again, taking a deep breath and letting it out again. It physically hurt him to try and say. He knew he needed to. He knew what he was going to say, but it hurt. It hurt to lower himself to that level in front of Luka. It hurt to completely shatter the child-like, idealised image of him that Luka had built up in his mind, and that Jim himself had carefully cultivated. He wasn't invincible. He wasn't all powerful. He could be hurt and he could be hurt badly. He couldn't always protect Luka from everything if Jim couldn't even protect himself. But what was more cruel? Destroying that wonderful image his little brother had of him that the boy looked up to, or letting him loose on this ugly, disgusting, vile, and cruel world with a false image of it? Wasn't knowingly letting him go forth completely unprepared for what he might see even crueler?

"I… Uh… I was... a se-se-sex-sex slave..." Jim ripped the band-aid off all at once and felt like he took off the skin of over half his arm in the process. It hurt. It was humiliating. It hurt and he felt like he was going to die from the shame. It felt like everything was over. His little idyllic life that he had built up around his home base and the relationships with the people there. His relationship with Luka, in particular, seemed like it was completely destroyed. Such a profound sense of loss ripped through the menace, stabbing not his body or his mind, but his very spirit, and rending a hole in it that could never be repaired. Luka was gone from him. He was gone forever and Jim could never get him back. The boy was definitely disgusted by him and would never want anything to do with him ever again. It was over. It was all over and Jim didn't know what to do about it. He didn't think that there was anything he could do.

There was nothing that he needed to, though. He wasn't the only one feeling a violent whirlwind of emotion right then. Those two words smacked Luka upside the head and rang in his ears for an agonisingly long amount of time. In the same instant, his heart and his stomach fell, seemingly out of his body, as he didn't feel like he was fully connected with it right then. It didn't feel real. There was shock. There was disbelief. Luka tried to argue against himself, believing that he had simply misheard Jim, but the words still rattling against his brain said otherwise. It was hard for him to accept, but he knew that Jim was definitely hurting worse. Yes, the image of Jim that he had had before knowing this was shattered, but so was his heart. His lip quivered as he held onto the blonde tighter, tying to pull him as close as he could, knowing that he could not protect the menace from what had already transpired and knowing that he did not yet know how to defend him from the echos of the past that plagued him. Luka was completely helpless, but so was Jim and he knew that Jim needed him. Yes, the image of Jim he had before he knew this was gone, but so much fit into place, now that he did. And as a result, his image of his brother felt more complete. He knew him now, not as who he appeared to be, but as who he was, and he still loved him. Luka loved Jim and wanted more than anything else in the world in that moment to protect him from that suffering.

How could anyone do this to Jim? Why Jim? It wasn't fair! Jim was so kind, and brave, and strong, so why did he need to be knocked down like this? Why did he need to suffer? Why did he need to feel so much shame that he had to hide himself from Luka? Luka, who loved him so dearly? The boy wanted to smite those who did this, but Jim already did. The revenge had already been taken, but the suffering remained. It wasn't over now that Earl Araneus Trancy was gone. It was still here, like a ghost, haunting Jim and it couldn't be forced away with guns or knives. All Luka could offer was his love and his tears. Oh, how he had tears to share.

The boy sniffled, trying to maintain his composure, just as Jim had before him. He held onto his brother as tight as he could and didn't let go, like he was afraid he might disappear if he said the wrong thing. How could Luka have not known? How could he have let Jim down like this? He never wanted to do that ever again. He wanted to protect him and offer him the kindness and comfort he needed.

"I love you..." was all he could think to say. He choked out the words as his throat tightened. "I'm sorry..."

"Why are you sorry?" the blonde questioned, trying to laugh as a way to hide. It came out muffled and sad.

"I don't know," Luka sniffled, his tears finally overflowing and running down his cheeks as he choked on a sob. "I don't know… It's just so sad! It's not fair! You didn't do anything!"

It was a struggle for Jim to hear the boy cry. His first instinct was to try and comfort him, but he had tears of his own to shed. The menace cried from the painful memories and he cried from the shame, but he also cried from relief. It was surprising, how much of a weight that was, trying to keep up the facade and hiding those less than heroic parts of himself. Jim wished that he didn't have to make Luka cry in the process, but he was just glad that the boy didn't reject him. Luka didn't push him away. He didn't recoil in disgust and instead, embraced him fully, trying to soothe him. Jim had to admit, it was incredibly sweet, despite the circumstances. He just wished that he could gather up the composure to warn Luka that there were people out there like this and that while it wasn't fair, or just, or right, that was how the world was. It was their job to get rid of people like that, though. They were the ones who could uphold justice by undermining it completely, killing those responsible instead of having them be locked up for a few years and released to do it all over again. But right then, he simply didn't have it in him. He didn't have the ability and it just didn't seem like the time. They both needed to stop and feel things, first.

"I know..." the menace was able to say. "I'm sorry… I just… I needed to tell you, eventually, and if this is the sort of thing you're going to do the job that we do… I just needed to let you know, first."

"Don't be sorry," the boy urgently said, nuzzling his temple against his bother's head. "I still love you the same...You're still the coolest and the biggest badass I know… You're the best! You've always been the best. You're still the best…"

Luka held his brother while his brother hugged him back. Both of them said nothing, yet they felt closer than they had been for a long time. It was like Luka had been watching his brother through a door made of frosted glass this whole time. He could make out just enough of his brother to tell it was him and could make out some of the things he was up to on the other side, all without ever seeing a clear image of him. Now, the door had been opened just a bit, and Luka was allowed to at least stand at the doorway and peek inside. There Jim was, in the most truthful iteration Luka had seen of him yet. He was just as impressive as he was before, even if his mind was a bit sick from the torture inflicted upon him and the things he had done, experienced, and seen. He was still kind and caring. He still loved Luka and Luka still loved Jim. The boy cared for his brother right back, although there was indeed a part of him that did in fact feel disgust.

It wasn't disgust at Jim, himself, as a person, but rather, what his own mind instinctively tried to put together in order to fill in the gaps Jim had left open. Luka didn't want to imagine that. He couldn't. He simply lacked the demented imagination of a bonafide monster. Thinking about it made Luka angry. He was helpless against the enemy, as the Earl was already long dead. He had been dead for years, now. Jim had killed him; Again. There was nothing Luka could do about it. He was completely powerless, but his sorrow for his brother's past and present plight left him feeling compelled to do something. Something was better than nothing, but nothing could be done. The boy grieved for his brother. He grieved for the peace that the blonde lacked and was never truly allowed to have in the first place. All of that hard work and dedication Jim had put into Luka before he died, taking care of him out of genuine love and goodwill, and this is what fate had in store for him? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair and that sorrow, grief, and yearning for some kind of justice made Luka angry, only for that anger to then revert back into it's original form when he was powerless to act on it. Simply put, Jim, himself, mattered to Luka more.

The boy and his brother held each other for longer, only parting when the world grew dark in order to turn on the small lantern Luka had brought with him, sparing Jim's. They bundled up together in blankets and sleeping bags, curled up together so they could share warmth. To Luka, it felt like the old days, but strangely, it was a lot better. He wasn't as small and easily frightened as he once was and he was a lot warmer than he was on those nights. Moreover, he knew his brother a lot better, now, and bundle up together with him, refusing to allow the menace to claim that he wasn't cold, too, for his sake. Luka wanted Jim to be warm and feel protected, too.

For the first time in a long time, they spent the night together, camping in the rain. Neither of them could really get to sleep, however. Neither of them were all that accustomed to sleeping on the hard ground anymore, and between the rain and the pretty raw emotions that they were both feeling, they simply stayed away in the quiet for a while, although Jim took a moment to break it in order to send a message to his husband, informing him that he wouldn't be returning to the house until morning.

Instead, when the tension wasn't so high, the brothers talked. Jim gave some more sagely advice and was pleased to find that the lad was a lot more receptive, this time around, while Luka aired his ambitions and frustrations. He was still bothered by things, even if the air was a little bit clearer, and so was Jim. When morning came and they stretched after laying on the ground all night before packing up and going home, the original Macken brothers felt closer than ever. It wasn't perfect, still, and there were still things left unsaid, but they were healing a bit, and their relationship started to change for the better.

The grass was still wet and the morning light peeked through the trees as the forest began to wake up. It was a new day. Jim picked up his heavy backpack and pulled it onto his back before picking up his other possessions, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Luka beat him to it.

"Do we have everything?" the teen asked tilting his head at the menace while sporting a rather impressive bedhead.

Jim was no better, though. With a laugh, the blonde answered: "Yeah, I think so."

"Let's go, then," Luka said, turning around to lead the way. "I don't wanna miss breakfast!"

All Jim could do was follow behind him, watching the lad's back as he moved forward, carrying his own bag over his broadening shoulders. Jim watched after him, feeling a small pang of sadness at the sight, but also a sense of pride. He couldn't help but smile, all the while wondering when Luka had gotten so tall.

* * *

**A/N: Hello~! This was a hard chapter to write!**

**Did I cry while writing it a bit? Who knows... It's a mystery...**

**Clearly, there's a lot more that's left to address, but I wanted to get to it in a different chapter, because I felt like tacking it on at the end would be too much. Like, we need to just let what's happening here kind of settle a bit so there's not too much information at once. It can make it kind of hard to focus on a chapter, I think, both writing and reading it...**

**Luka is growing up and I wanted him to have both this immature kind of fake independence because he's still got a ways to go, but also, I wanted to make it clear by the end that he HAS grown and is more mature and is more independent than he was before. It's not as superficial as him going off on his own in the beginning, I think... At least, that's what I was thinking when I wrote it!**

**Also, I love how when I'm writing a scene solely focusing on Luka, the narrator's voice changes a lot lmao. That beginning was really fun to write!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


	74. New Chapter

"Just put it over there," Samantha said, hanging her dry erase board where she kept all of the things she had to do written on it on the wall. Last night, she had completely erased it for the move, but she would be putting things on it as soon as her brother and his friends left her new dorm.

Outside, the hallways bustled with activity. New students were hauling their belongings into their rooms with their parents in tow, carrying plastic bins, suitcases, cardboard boxes, and plastic bags. In a frenzy, they all rushed to get their dorms as close to Instagram perfect as they could all at once, despite the futility of it. Samantha wasn't the only one there without her parents helping her. Some didn't have anybody's help, while Miss Westley had Daniel and a pair of demons. Daniel grunted as he set down a box of clothes for Samantha to put away later, rubbing his aching back as he stood upright again.

"I didn't know there'd be so many people this early..." he lamented. "The lift's all full up. I can't get in at all!"

"Unfortunately, they wouldn't let us in any earlier. A few days would've been nice, but _c'est la vie._" Turning around, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and slipped her shoes back on, just in time for Jim to walk through the door with carrying two boxes with one balanced on top of the other.

"I've got knick knacks and some more clothes." the demon declared, bending his knees so that Samantha could take the box on top.

"Knick knacks and knickers." Daniel chimed in.

"Dan!" the young woman chastised, setting the box down on the bed and rummaging through it.

"What? I've done your laundry before. I know you wear knickers and quite frankly, it's a relief to all of us."

"I hate you." Samantha replied, pulling out a pair of picture frames and setting a photo of the man on the desk allocated to her side of the room, regardless. Beside it, she placed a photo of herself and herself, Revy, and Geraldine.

"Clearly. I, too, have a photograph of my most hated enemies on my desk."

"What kind of enemies do you have besides your family?" Jim questioned with his hands on his hips.

"Jaffa cakes." Mister Westley declared, patting his stomach. The gesture simply made the demon roll his eyes before starting on his way back out for more of Samantha's belongings. On his way, he stopped in order to move out of his way for the second one.

"Some old hag nearly knocked me down the stairs!" Luka declared, carrying a laundry basket filled with clothes hangers and other miscellaneous items. In a huff, he set them down. "What's she in a hurry for? Everybody else is moving in, too!"

"Probably shat her diaper or something." Jim suggested before moving toward the door again. "You didn't trip her, did you?"

On his way out, the boy followed him. "I thought about it..." he said.

"What? No brother of mine is resorting to tripping old ladies down the stairs! Next time, you look her right in the eye and tell her: 'Watch where you're fucking going, you ugly old hag, or I'm calling the cops!'" Jim insisted. With that, the Macken brothers disappeared somewhere down the hall, leaving the Westley siblings on their own again.

"Your friends are really weird..." Samantha deadpanned, watching after the others as they went.

"That's supernaturals, for you… Though, by supernatural standards, they're still pretty weird..." Daniel replied with a shrug. "I just hope they don't actually run into that woman..."

"Yeah, I really hope they don't terrorise the people I'm going to be living in this building with..." A heavy sigh escaped the young woman, causing her shoulders to slouch.

"You nervous?"

"Absolutely. I haven't lived around humans for so long, I'm worried I might mention something supernatural and get looked at like I'm mental." She paused before adding: "And… Being by myself doesn't feel too great, either..."

The woman's tone got to Daniel somewhat, prompting him to smile with a bit more force while he tried to keep himself together for his sister's sake. "You'll be fine! Gerry lives nearby, so you're not completely stranded on your own. You still have someone to hang out with and help you out when you need it. And then if you ever need my help, I'm just a phonecall away. Seriously. Whatever you need. I'll make sure you get it!" His words were obviously just as much for himself as they were for her, reassuring the both of them that, but for his sake, Samantha chose to ignore that part, since he was also very obviously inclined to hide it.

"Don't worry, I'll call all the time, and I assume I'll also be visiting pretty often. But, if you can do me a favour: if you find my MP3 player, can you get it to me? I've been looking all over the place for it for weeks! It's probably somewhere dumb..."

"Oh, I have it."

"Dan!"

"What?" Digging in his pocket, he pulled out the device with the earbuds plugged in and neatly wrapped around it. It was swiped the moment he held it out to her. "I was putting some more music on it. You should listen to it as soon as we leave."

"I'll check it out while I'm putting my stuff away. You could at least tell me when you take it..." Immediately, she began inspecting the device, only to look up and find her brother smiling a bit too wide. His eyes were wet and he was practically vibrating from the tension he was holding in. "Aw..." she cooed, holding out her arms and wrapping them around her brother, only to find herself being tightly squeezed in return. "I'm gonna miss you..."

"I'm gonna miss you more!" sniffled the man, finally letting his tears fall. He felt incredibly goofy, crying like this in her dormroom while other families were about and able to see right in if they walked by, since the door was wide open.

Many of them were doing the same, though, just with a more conventional family. Other people had sobbing mothers and choked up fathers, lamenting the loss of their children as they finally fled the nest, but Samantha had Daniel. It really wasn't his place to do so, but he had done his absolute best in raising her. For all intents and purposes, he was her parent and the fact that she was growing up got to him a bit, just as it would any ordinary, loving, parents.

"I'm gonna miss having you around!" he messily sobbed. "I'm gonna miss your company and you telling me about books and stuff! I'm even gonna miss it when you pretend to give an interview to yourself when you think I can't hear!"

"Hey!"

"You always sound so smart, even if I can't actually hear the questions!" Daniel declared through tears and wheezing. "You're literally the smartest person I know and I'm so proud of you! You're so big now, and so smart, and the house is gonna be so quiet, oh my god! I'm gonna miss my little baby sister so much!"

"Jesus, Danny… I'm gonna miss you, too." the woman replied, cringing a bit at the wet spot she now felt on her shoulder, although she thought the whole thing was very sweet. She felt a bit of a lump in her throat form at the thought. She really was going to miss him, just like the first time he moved out. But this time, she was the one who had grown up. She still needed him, but just not in the same way anymore. She needed to learn how to take care of herself. "I'll be fine! Really! I figured you were going to cry, but I didn't think it would be this much..."

The poor man did his very best to pull himself back together, but his face was still a bit of a sorry sight. His cheeks were wet, his eyes were puffy, and he looked absolutely pitiful when he finally pulled away. Letting go of the woman with one arm, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

"I asked the demons to write down some safety tips, so promise you'll follow them as best you can." he said, offering him the crumpled thing.

"Okay, I will..." Samantha promised, having an inkling that whatever was written down there was probably some shady business that might get her arrested, but to put her brother's mind at ease, she took the paper anyway.

"Call me every day until you get settled."

"Alright..."

"And don't waste all your time going to parties! Grades are more important!"

"I won't! I'm not interested, anyway..."

"No walking alone at night, either! If you need to go somewhere, go with Gerry!"

"I will! Jesus! Most women know not to do that! Gerry's a woman, too, though!"

"It makes me feel better if I know you're being escorted by a Midford." Daniel said simply, perhaps the most calmly he's spoken within the last few minutes. "But, don't be distracted by her, either! And if you're going to spend the night at her place, use protection!"

"DAN!"

"I'm on to you two! It's normal to have those feelings, but you need to be careful!"

"Oh my fucking GOD!" the woman groaned, harshly introducing the palm of her hand to her forehead. "We haven't even done anything!"

"I'm just making sure! You're away from home, so I won't be here to cockblock you." Pausing, the man looked up, deep in thought. "Pussy… block?"

"EW! I don't want to hear you say it! What is wrong with you?!"

Daniel laughed at that. There was nothing that could boost his spirits better than teasing his little sister. He still seemed a bit sad, however, even when the demons came back with more boxes. It was a good show, he put on, though. He at least fooled Luka and had Samantha and Jim not known him that well, he might've fooled them, too. They gave him the respect of not calling attention to it, though. All three of them knew that he was just holding on until he could get home.

The cars were soon empty of Samantha's belongings. Doors were shut and locked and the Mackens went downstairs after bidding their farewells to the Westleys. Once they were in the car and they had their seatbelts fastened, Luka piped up.

"Is uni fun?" he asked, wondering both for Samantha and perhaps himself as well.

"It was alright." Jim replied. "It's hard, but if you have time to do it, it could be a good investment."

"Why didn't you finish, then?"

"It's a lot harder than secondary school. I couldn't bunk off as much as I needed to so I can do my real job. Queen and country coming first and all that. You can go if you want to, though." Turning on the car, the older demon switched into gear and started moving out of the parking lot.

"Maybe." Luka pondered, peering out the window as he watched the dorms growing smaller before disappearing behind another building. "I dunno if I want it, yet."

"Well, you've got all the time in the world. I was thinking I might try and go back one day, but the work is just never done, it seems." As Jim said that, the boy perked up, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"This isn't the way we came." Luka noted, turning to his brother as Jim turned onto the "wrong" street.

"I know. I was just thinking we could go do something else before going home. Y'know, just while we're out and about..."

"What? Do you need to go get some milk or something?" The boy arched an eyebrow in a skeptical manner, thoroughly unconvinced by his own sarcasm.

"Nah." the man answered with a small smile. He was up to something, the lad just knew it. "I just thought that we could, y'know… Go look at earrings or something?"

It didn't hit Luka right away. His first impression was that Jim hadn't said what he'd thought he'd said. Luka's second was that Jim was simply joking. But, as realisation washed over him, his face slowly lit up until his eyes were practically sparkling and his grin was wide.

"Are you serious?!" Luka eagerly questioned, his seatbelt catching him as he abruptly leaned toward the menace.

"Well, I was thinking about it, and it does seem kinda silly not to." Jim replied. "I mean, Revy has them. Even my husband has them! They're cute, I can kinda see why you'd want them."

"They're cool!" the boy corrected.

"To each their own." his brother noted. "It's probably better if I help you pick them out instead of Ciel. He would make you pick out something super plain."

The Mercedes ventured further into the city and wouldn't return home for a few hours. By that time, Luka would be the proud owner of a pair of earrings in a small bag. That was the easy part. The hard part would be sitting still long enough for the butler to actually pierce them. But before the night was over, Luka would be a member of the Phantomhive household's "wears earrings" club, just as he had been begging to be for the past year or so.

But not everything was so wonderful for everyone else. Shortly after they had left the parking lot, Daniel had ventured down the stairs and to his own vehicle. Once the door was closed behind him, he uttered the heaviest of sighs. He needed to wait a moment until he had the strength to buckle his seatbelt, because right then, he just couldn't will himself to do so. And so, he sat there in the silent car for a few minutes with his hand on the steering wheel. He stared ahead at the building he had just exited, occasionally looking up at what he had figured was Samantha's window.

This was really it, huh? From now on, Daniel was done raising Samantha and in some ways, it came as a relief. It wasn't supposed to be his responsibility in the first place, after all, and he was never really ready for the job. Even now, he didn't feel like he was ready. Yet, at the same time, he felt like he had lost something irreplaceable. A major piece of him was gone and he could never get it back. He shouldn't try to get it back, either. He knew that much. It was Samantha's time to grow up and truthfully, he wasn't ready for that, either. Daniel didn't ever think he would be. That's why it was important for him to let go now when it was time. But, should there ever come a day when Samantha needed to rely on him again, he knew that he would swoop in in a heartbeat. She was his baby, after all—his baby that was only a few years younger than him. Ah, he felt like crying again.

He waited until he was out of the parking lot and a little ways from the school, first. That was the longest he could hold it in. Other people most likely saw him crying in traffic, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could think about was how deathly quiet that house was going to be when he got home and how it would be a long time until the void Samantha left would become a part of the scenery.

A hole was left in Samantha's life, too, but she did her best to fill it with her new life. Daniel wasn't there, but she still had to find places for all of her things. She needed to put her clothes and school supplies away, hang her decorations, and put all of her knick knacks into a suitable place. It was a lot of work she had ahead of her, but she had a whole week to get it done. Right then, she wanted to start immediately so she wouldn't have to think too hard about everything. It was a rare moment for her, but she needed to endure it.

Looking around the room, she let out a sigh as she resolved to get started. First, however, she pulled her music player out of her pocket and carefully unwrapped the earbuds. Praying that Daniel left a charge on it, she watched as it sprung to life. Moving to the newest songs entered, she hit play without looking at any of the information before shoving the device back into her pocket.

"Fuckin' hell..." The woman was nearly scared out of her skin as she heard her brother's voice in her ears. "If I have to record this again, I'm gonna go fucking mental… I don't have anymore time for this! Okay… Uh..." He paused to clear his throat. "One… Two… One, two, three, and-"

That was Daniel's guitar playing. It had been a while since Samantha had heard it. Somehow, it came as a bit of a relief to her that he still new how to play. It was nice—not genius level, but not at all amateur. Samantha always knew that Daniel was talented when it came to music, though. It didn't matter if the guitar was acoustic or electric. It didn't matter if it was wind, string, or brass, Daniel always could pick up instruments quick and Samantha always liked to hear him play. Even if he put himself down about his smarts, this was the area that he could definitely beat her in and somehow, it came as a comfort to her. Daniel always seemed happiest like this and it stopped Samantha in her tracks. Assembling her room could wait for just a little while. That's when she heard amongst the chords the sound of Daniel taking a deep breath.

"You're such an ass, but that's where you keep your smarts.

We couldn't last, so I guess this is where we part.

Even when you're gone I'll be thinking of you.

But when you need me again I'll be right here.

I was never meant to be the one to fulfill this role in your life.

But even so, I want you to know

That no matter where you go

No matter what you do.

Just know that I'll always love you

And just know you'll always be mine.

You were such a pest, but I don't want you to feel trapped.

We were never the best, so I think it's only apt

That we part ways for now and grow closer in separation.

Feel free to call home when you need to hear me.

There was never close to enough energy or time.

But that's okay, we'll find a way

To have fun some other day.

Because no matter what you do.

Just know that I'll always love you

And just know you'll always be mine.

You were not mine to take care of but I did.

I can't count the times where I just wanted to quit.

Pulling out my hair because I was a kid, too.

But then I'd see your face and remember that you're precious.

Every pain and every inconvenience was worth it in the end.

I'm not ready, but you are ready

And..."

The music stopped and Daniel's voice trailed off. Samantha listened carefully, searching for anything that might have captured the man's attention in the moment. Then, with a sigh, he picked back up.

"That's okay." he sang quietly, his instrument mirroring him.

"Because no matter what you do

No matter where you go

No matter how far away you are

I will always love yourself

And you will always be mine."

Samantha's room didn't get put away that night. It wouldn't have been right of her, in her mind. Moreover, she simply couldn't bring herself to do it. Her emotions bound her to her bed, curling up to brace herself as wave after wave of loneliness washed over her. Her brother hadn't even made it all the way home yet, but she missed him, just like he missed her. It was hard to sleep knowing that his home was no longer hers and that instead, she was surrounded by loud strangers who were reveling in the lack of parental supervision. Samantha had his voice, though, knowing that he was there without being there.

It was the first night of a new chapter in her life. She was growing older and when people grew older, they grew away from those who sheltered them and started to venture beyond the nest. Luka was already taking a few exploratory steps that day, albeit under the watchful eye of his own older brother. He wasn't ready for the sort of permanency that Samantha was coming to grips with, so he still needed a hand to guide him.

The same was for the older siblings, as well. Daniel's nest was completely empty and he was slowly coming to terms with it. The house was so quiet that every sound seemed particularly loud. He noticed every footstep as he found himself wandering around the apartment, inspecting everything in order to make sure it was all in the proper place. Samantha's room was completely out of order, though. It was bare. He hated it.

Jim, meanwhile, felt the sting of watching a needle being shoved through his sibling's earlobe. Over the course of many years, his sensibilities had been dulled to extreme violence and blood was never something to make him squeamish, no matter how much came out or what it splattered over, but that? It made him flinch a bit. There was much that he still needed to talk to Luka about, but the worst of it was over. They seemed a bit close again, even though there was still a lot of distance to cover. Boundaries still needed to be discussed on both sides, but for now, things were looking alright. He even thought the earrings looked rather cute on the boy.

His husband seemed flattered by the gesture and had been in an overall particularly good mood as of late. It was just in time, too, because while Samantha was starting her first day of university in a few weeks, in a few days, Travis and Patricia would be making their exit from academics as graduates. They would be the first of their group-apart from Ciel, of course-to get their degrees and then by this time next month, they would be the second to get married. So many milestones were being passed so quickly that it was somewhat difficult for Ciel and Jim to keep up with them all. They half expected their other friends or family to come out with some additional nonsense. If that happened, however, they were sure that they would cope. After all, it wasn't as though it would be life or death. The world was simply changing and everyone was simply growing. It was as ordinary as ordinary could be, but still, they had to admit that it was all a bit exciting.

* * *

**A/N: Greetings, nerds. Enjoy this chapter of relatively mundane stuff happening? A lot is going on these days, though... Sam's off learning, Dan's dealing with empty nest syndrome, Luka is a hormonal teenager, Jim is adulting harder, Ciel has achieved nihilistic enlightenment, and Travis and Patricia are getting married. All good, ordinary, wholesome stuff uwu.**

**Don't laugh at me for that song, tho. I really, really hate poetry and know nothing about music lmao. I was never one of those kids who wrote songs in their notebooks. I was drawing monsters and shit lmao. EVEN WORSE, Daniel performs music using a sound that I really don't like that much in the first place lmao. It's just... Too... I dunno. I dunno how to describe it. I feel like music is one of the few areas where Daniel doesn't really joke around a lot, but I still couldn't resist with a few of those lines. I just... cannot do that seriously. I feel too self-conscious about it, so I want to preemptively joke about it so no one can laugh at me lmao.**

**Feel free to rework the song if you want to. In fact, please do. Please. I really did him dirty lmao**

**Structure? Rhythm? In MY poetry? Sounds fake, but ok...**

**Anywho, that's what took me so long on this chapter. Hopefully, the next one will be faster! First, I have to figure out what I'm gonna do for it, but yeah!**

**Until the next chapter, my duckies~!**


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